


The Black Resurgence

by alexmurray, MabonEleven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Family, Gen, Harry Potter was Raised by Sirius Black, Manipulative Dumbledore, Pureblood Culture, Pureblood Politics, Pureblood Society, Wizarding Traditions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 36,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7736764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexmurray/pseuds/alexmurray, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabonEleven/pseuds/MabonEleven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arcturus Black, Head of the Black Family, manages to free Sirius after only two years in prison. Free, though still believed to be a Death Eater by the public, Sirius raises Harry. As he deals with the aftermath of the war and Azkaban, Sirius begins re-evaluating his world view. He ran away from the pureblood world he was born into, believing it to be evil and wrong. But was it? Was Voldemort really fighting for pureblood supremacy? Or was he simply and evil mad man? Is Dumbledore truly good? Or a manipulative, power hungry man trying to shape the wizarding world to his desires? [AN: Has recently been adopted by MabonEleven, will continue starting May 2018]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Azkaban

**Author's Note:**

> I've always lamented how Rowling doesn't show us much about the pureblood world. There never seems to be a real reason why so many purebloods support Voldemort besides "they are evil." Hogwarts celebrates Christian holidays, but I don't think purebloods would be Christian. Hogwarts doesn't seem to be a big enough school to support a thriving wizarding society. There are so many opportunities to flush out the world that I think Rowling misses out on. I also love writing Sirius-centric stories, so I decided to write this. A story where Sirius returns to his pureblood roots, but is not evil. A story that attempts to explain how Voldemort gained so many supporters. A story that paints a world that is vastly different, but not better or worse than the muggle world. I hope I succeed :)

**Nov 10 th, 1983**

Sirius was lying on his cot listlessly when he heard he foot steps approaching. He thought about standing up, greeting his visitors with his usual smirk, taunting them with his sanity, but not today. Today he could barely move- yet alone greet his tormentors with false cheer. He shifting, biting back a whimper as the movement pulled on the barely formed scabs that covered his back. His new position provided some relief to his aching leg, but the fire in his back nearly overwhelmed it. Yesterday they had been angrier than usual. He hadn’t remembered them being so vicious since the first few weeks. Two years ago, at least he thought.

“Get up, Black!” a voice yelled, kicking the bars to his cell.

“You’ve got thirty seconds till we give you a hand!” added the other.

Sirius mustered his strength, pushing himself up off the coat onto his unstable legs. He could barely stand- and it hurt, so much- but he knew from experience the guards’ “help” would be worse. Grimacing, he managed the three steps to the entrance of his cell. He thought his leg might be broken again, but it didn’t matter. That pain would be minuscule in comparison to what was coming. After all, they only took him two days in a row when they were really angry. He only wished he knew what he had done to deserve it this time.

“Hands!” the first guard snapped, and Sirius obliged, sticking his thin wrists through the bar so the guard could cuff them. Magic suppressing cuffs. Sirius could feel himself weaken as the cuffs blocked his magic.

“Step back!” the second guard yelled as he pulled out the key to the door, unlocking it. With a wave of his wand, he directed Sirius out of the cell, into the hallway.

Every step was agonizing, and the hall seemed to last forever. Without his magic, Sirius could feel bone grinding on bone and cuts reopening as he grew weaker and weaker. He stumbled, and the guard behind him shot him with a strong stinging hex, kicking him forward. The only bright side was the lack of dementors. Pain or everlasting misery. Those were his choices- hardly good ones.

Eventually they reached the end of the hall. The guard in front opened a door, and the second pushed him stumbling into a room. He blinked, squinting in the light. This was not where they normally brought him.

“He’s all yours,” grunted the first guard to a tall, thin man standing across the room.

“The cuffs?” the man asked, his voice deep and thick with a rich, aristocratic accent. Sirius wondered who he was. He sounded familiar, but the room was too bright to see, and he was losing focus.

“Fine,” the guard muttered, unlocking the cuffs around Sirius’ wrists. “Now take the bastard and go.”

“Just because you’re getting out on a technicality doesn’t mean you are free,” the second guard whispered into Sirius’ ear, voice full of hatred.

“And the portkey?” the man asked, his voice sharp with command. “I think it best we leave this place as soon as possible.”

Sirius blinked, looking around the room in surprise. Getting out? Portkey? It was the prisoner processing room, he realized as the man stepped forward. He was being let go? How did that happen?

“Merlin, what have they done to you?” the man muttered as he walked over to Sirius, guiding his hand to a small object.

A moment later, the portkey activated, swirling the pair of wizards away. As Sirius and the man landed in a large room, Sirius finally figured out why the man was familiar. He was his grandfather, Lord Arcturus Black. And they had just landed in the receiving room of Black Manor. Interesting, he thought, as he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

 

“How is he?” Arcturus Black asked, looking down at the sleeping form of his grandson.

“He’ll live,” the woman replied, “but they… they tortured him Lord Black.”

“Please, Mrs. Greengrass, call me Arcturus here. And how bad?”

“Right. As you saw, there is extensive scarring and cuts covering his back. They appear to have been made with either a darker whip spell, or an actual whip coated in some sort of poison. I have done my best to close they newer ones and prevent scarring, but much of it is too old to do anything about. Around his wrists there is also extensive scarring. I have applied a salve to reduce it, but I fear not all of it will disappear.”

“Restraints,” Arcturus muttered. “Those barbarians, claiming to be on the side of the light.”

Mrs. Greengrass nodded. “As terrible as the scarring may be to look at, it will be purely cosmetic. It is the damage to his shoulders and legs I am more worried about. His shoulders appear to have been dislocated and set many times over the past two years. The muscles and tendons are strained, and I am concerned about permanent nerve damage. I think he set his own shoulders,” she added in a low voice.

Arcturus merely nodded. “They hung him and whipped him like a common muggle. My grandson. My heir. They will pay.”

“And we will help you, Lord Black,” a man agreed, entering the room. “But first, let my wife continue so we may help Sirius recover the best he can.”

“You are right, Daniel. Please, Mrs. Greengrass, continue.”

She nodded, brushing a loose hair behind her ear. “I have given him nerve repairing potion as well as muscle relaxants, but only time will tell what damage has been done. My last concern is his legs, specifically the right one. They have been broken several times, and not all the fractures healed correctly. I re-broke and set the bones, but I cannot give him skele-gro. I think, given time and rest, the left will heal fine, but the right femur concerns me. It was broken quite badly, most recently only a day or so ago. There is extensive damage.”

“No skele-gro?” Daniel asked his wife, staring down at Sirius’ legs, both of which were splinted extensively.

“It cannot be taken with other potions, and I dare not take him off the pain or nerve regenerative potions.”

“When will he wake?” Arcturus asked, sinking into a chair next to his grandson.

“Later today, perhaps. But the more he sleeps, the better.”

Arcturus nodded, and turned to his grandson, brushing a strand of Sirius’ newly shorten hair back. The two Greengrasses left, leaving the aging Lord in peace.

 

The first thing Sirius noticed as he slowly awoke was the warmth. It had been two years since he had felt so warm, and it was a welcome change. The second thing he noticed was the pain. Everything seemed to hurt, though it was clearly dulled by a rapidly diminishing amount of pain reliever. Opening his eyes slowly, he groaned as the bright lights assaulted his senses.

“Young Master Sirius is waking. Mipsy will fetch Master Arcturus, she will. Does Young Master Sirius need another potion?” the elf asked in concern, hovering at the edge of his bed.

“Pain reliever,” Sirius croaked, “and water?”

“Mipsy will fetch a pain reliever and tell Lolly to bring up some broth and water. Young Master Sirius is too thin. Too thin. Master Arcturus is most unhappy,” she added, popping away.

Alone, and slightly more awake, Sirius moved to sit up, only to set his back and shoulders on fire. He bit back a scream, falling back onto the pillows, breathing deeply.

“If you wish to sit up, I’ll fetch Mrs. Greengrass,” Arcturus informed Sirius, entering the room. “But you are in no position to do anything by yourself.”

Sirius nodded, his attempt at sitting up definitely made him agree with his grandfather’s assessment. “How?” he asked, as his grandfather sat beside him.

“I convinced the Wizengamont to let you out. I think that should be obvious based on the fact that you are here.”

“But, how did you…” he began, his voice weak with disuse and thirst.

“You never received a trial. I… enlightened… them about this oversight. I think the details can wait until you are stronger. Lolly has arrived with some broth, and I dare say you need it,” he added before turning to the elf. “Fetch Mrs. Greengrass. Let her know Sirius is awake and we require her presence.”

The elf nodded, and a few minutes later Mrs. Greengrass entered the room. Sirius could not say how many, as Arcturus had fed him another pain potion, and his sense of time was a little off.

“How are you feeling?” Mrs. Greengrass asked, pulling out her wand.

“Weak,” he replied, taking a sip of the water his grandfather held for him.

“I would imagine so. You are severely malnourished. Not to mention I had to re-brake and set several bones in order to for them to heal correctly. I’m afraid you will be trapped here for a while. But let’s get you sitting up so you can eat.”

Sirius nodded, and he felt her arms wrap around his shoulders, gingerly guiding his back up as his grandfather arranged a mound of pillows behind him. He clenched his teeth, biting back the pain as he was slowly lowered back onto the pillows. He wasn’t exactly sitting up, but somehow the change in angle made him feel a little less like an invalid. Though the bandages around his back and shoulders, restraining his arms to his chest certainly did not help.

“You don’t suppose you could unbind by arms? Or at least one?” he asked.

“Not until the nerve regenerative has had more time to work. Tomorrow,” she added at his look of despair.

Sirius sighed, and resigned himself to being fed the broth. It was delicious, light, warm, and definitely the best thing he had tasted in over two years. Even so, after only about half the bowl, he felt himself nodding off.

 


	2. A conversation

Over the next few days, Sirius mostly slept. When he was awake, he remained confined to the bed, where he read, ate, or talked to his grandfather. On the fourth day after he had first woken, a day after Mrs. Greengrass had determined he was done with the nerve regenerative and could take skele-gro, he awoke to find a cane leaning against the bedside table, a note stuck to it.

“Leave the brace on the right leg and use the cane,” it said.

Smiling, Sirius swung his legs to the side of the bed, slipping on the robe and slippers waiting for him. Grabbing the cane in his left hand (leaving his wand arm free even if he didn’t have one at the moment), he slowly stood. He felt weak as a kitten, and his right leg twinged slightly, but he was determined to leave the room.

“Mrs. Greengrass did well,” his grandfather remarked, folding his paper as Sirius entered the room. “You look much better than you did when I first saw you.”

“I’ll have to thank her,” Sirius agreed, taking at seat across from his grandfather. “But I think now is a good time for you to explain exactly how you managed to free me. I must admit, I had given up on the idea of being freed. Not that your actions were unwanted.”

Arcturus gave a rare, slight smile as Lolly placed a plate of toast and eggs in front of Sirius. “I suppose it is time. But the story starts before you were even thrown in Azkaban. It starts long ago, when your Aunt Lucretia and your father were at Hogwarts. They were, like Blacks, in Slytherin.”

“I wasn’t.”                                                                                             

“No, but you always wanted to be different, troublesome. Though, I suppose in this case, I should be thankful you turned out unlike your parents. But back to my tale. It was 1943, and the Chamber of Secrets had been opened at Hogwarts. There was great mystery surrounding the affair, as everyone tried to figure out who the heir was. Especially Orion, your father. As you may know, a student was killed, and Rubeus Hagrid expelled as the cuprit.”

“Hagrid? There is no way he is the Heir of Slytherin.”

“No, I don’t believe he is. But a prefect caught him with an acromantula. With the prefect's word and his half-giant heritage, he was expelled.”

“Slytherin's monster is not a giant spider,” Sirius scoffed. “Everyone knows that.”

Arcturus laughed at his grandson. “Every Black knows that, but not every wizard. You may have been sorted into Gryffindor, but you grew up in the most Slytherin family still around. But the Chamber is what started it. The following year, Lucretia began complaining about an annoying sixth year. Tom Riddle, the boy was named, but he claimed to be the Heir of Slytherin and wore the Gaunt ring.”

“They were the last known decedents of Slytherins, but had fallen into squalor. Barely more than squibs at the end, right?”

“Correct. But Orion, like many of his classmates was infatuated with the boy. So, naturally I looked into it. The Heir of Slytherin is a suitable friend for a Black, but Riddle is a muggle name.”

“Still on about blood purity are you?” Sirius spat.

“I fear I let Orion’s weakness and Walburga’s madness drive you away prematurely. Blood is important, but not as Walburga preached, at least not in the end. But let me continue my tale. I looked into Riddle and discovered many things. He was the blood Heir to Slytherin, but also a half-blood. He had no money, no lands, and had not been raised as a wizard. He was, to put it simply, an unsuitable person for Orion to be infatuated with.”

“If he is the blood Heir, then Riddle is…”

“The Dark Lord, yes. Despite my disapproval, Orion remained infatuated with Riddle. But, soon, he graduated and Orion married your mother. By the time you were born, Riddle had disappeared, and I thought no more of him.”

“But he came back.”

“He did. In 1965, Walburga hosted a dinner at Grimmauld Place. I am sure you remember the dinner, for it was at that dinner that Voldemort first made my acquaintance. He talked about the importance of blood, the superiority of wizards, and the petulance that was muggleborns. Walburga soaked in every word, as did Orion. I believe Walburga was one of his closest followers in school, and quickly pledged her loyalty to his mission. Cygnus and Druella also quickly joined, but Lucretia and my generation were less enamored.”

“You want me to believe Pollux, Irma, Cassiopeia, and the like did not support him?”

“Respect your grandparents, even if you do not like them, young man. They did not. Sure, they believe in the superiority of purebloods, especially the Blacks. And they believe muggles are lesser creatures.”

“And you,” Sirius muttered.

“I will not deny that. We are better than muggles. But Riddle was a half-blood upstart with no understanding of our culture. Sure, he pretended, but we could see it was all a façade. And keep in mind, from our generation, Dorea, Charis, Cedrella, and Callidora married into so called light families.”

“Charis, Cedrella, and Callidora are all Artie and Lysandra’s daughters.”

“True, Artie was a kinder soul. The youngest of five. He was my favorite uncle, I admit. He gave the best presents.”

Sirius smiled at the thought of Arcturus looking forward to his namesake’s visits. While Artie had died shortly after Sirius had been born, he grew up hearing about the kindest soul who did not get blasted from the tree. “And Dorea never forgave the family for disowning Marius. That’s why she never comes to family events.”

Arcturus raised an eyebrow. “You know your Great Uncle Marius?”

“Of course,” Sirius grinned. “I ran away to James’ in sixth year. Dorea is James’ aunt, so I met her. When she found out she was also my great-aunt, she did her best to introduce me to all the other disowned Blacks. I met Marius, Cedrella, and spent time with Andromeda. Did you know she has a daughter now? Nymphadora. She’s about ten now, and a metamorphagus.”

“A Metamorphagus? Extraordinary. The last Metamorphagus in the family was Ellidora, my great-aunt. And even then, she was only a partial one.”

“Dora’s full. She’s adorable. Andi used to always keep a hat and a glamour on her hair. I think she starts Hogwarts next year.”

“It truly is a shame, what has happened to the family. Perhaps,” he muttered absently to himself. “But back to my story. At the dinner, I informed your parents, along with Druella and Cygnus, that I did not approve of Voldemort. As you may remember, Walburga did not… take that well.”

“An understatement,” Sirius spat, thinking of the beating he had received later that night as Walburga raged.

“I am sorry, Sirius. I did not realize until much later how bad she had gotten.”

“Right barmy she was.”

“Indeed. But, that is a matter to discuss another time. As you might remember, over the next few years, the Dark Lord gained followers. Mostly they were the students he went to school with, and their children. He gained a few… less intelligent… followers of my generation, and those who had fallen onto hard times. You see, he captured those closest to him first with charisma, then madness as they fell to the darkest of magic, while he convinced his outer followers through promises of money and power. Those of us who were already on top, well, what did I have to gain?”

Sirius shrugged, listening to his grandfather. It made… sense. Well, at least more sense than it ever did as it was happening. “When did he start marking his followers? And did he mark you?”

“He started marking his followers after forcing Nobby Leach out of office in 1968. Do you remember that?”

“Vaguely,” Sirius said. While he did not remember the event so much (he had only been eight after all), he remembered the aftermath bitterly. “I remember how happy everyone was that the ‘mudblood scum’ had been ousted. Uncle Alphard explained what was happening to me, Cissy, and Andi. Reggie was considered too young, and Bellatrix had already graduated. I think it was the first time Andi showed her displeasure with Druella and Cygnus’s beliefs.”

“It very well might have been. That summer, Orion, Cygnus, Druella, Walburga, and Bellatrix were all marked. I was furious that members of the House of Black dare enslave themselves to a half-blood with no respect for our culture. But they did not listen.”

“That’s when you stopped visiting.”

“Yes, it was. There was more to it, but looking back, I see I made the wrong choice. Had I stuck around, perhaps things would not have turned out as they did.”

“You mean Regulus.”

“I do,” Arcturus admitted softly, his sorrow showing. “And maybe I could have saved Bellatrix.”

“I remember when she was just Bella. Bella Black, my older cousin who looked out for me, babysat us during stuffy dinners, and taught me simple healing charms.”

“I remember Bella too,” Arcturus admitted. “I remember when Orion was a young boy, eager to learn, when Pollux wrote me in a panic, only thirteen years old, his then girlfriend with child. Phineas had just died, and my first act as Lord Black was dealing with the ruffled feathers of Irma Crabbe’s mother. I remember the pure joy I experience the first time I held you in my arms, my first grandson, a tiny ball of joy. I remember all of you before things fell apart. It is my curse, my burden to bear.”

Sirius sat, sipping the tea Lolly had brought as his grandfather simply stared off into space. This was a side of Arcturus he had never seen before. The vulnerable, regretful side of a man who watched his family fall apart and die as they succumbed to madness.

“I told him I would only take the mark if all the Blacks did. Only if my entire house willed it so.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes. But I also knew you would never take the mark. Walburga ensured that. The very actions she took to try to mold you into perfect heir- a mindless, violent idiot- ensured you would never do so. Pureblood superiority? Muggleborns should be killed?” Arcturus laughed, a rough, pained laugh. “The only members of the family who showed you any kindess were the blood-traitors, squibs, and their half-blood and muggleborn spouses,” Arcturus lamented, leaning on his hands. “I am sorry, Sirius, I am sorry. I should have done better, you deserved better. And when they threw you in Azkaban, all I could think of was why? Why would you betray the boy you loved more than your own blood. The family that first showed you love? I tried to look up the trial records, to see if they would tell me why.”

“But there weren’t any. I never received a trial. I never had the chance to explain. I never betrayed James,” Sirius responded, sadly. There was a time he had been mad, when he had raged against those who threw him in jail, the former colleagues who turned against him, attacking with spells and hate. But that anger had burned away until all that was left was sadness.

“I know. You are the last of the family. The last one who can pass down the once great name of Black. And they had locked you up without trial, without thinking about what they accused you of. So I fought, and I argued. If you never have a trial, you cannot be guilty.”

“But they didn’t give me a trial.”

“No. I sued them for wrongful imprisonment. The law states that you cannot hold a pureblood wizard for more than thirty days without trial. If that right is violated, then the wizard shall be set free, never to be re-jailed or tried for the crime, and the accuser or his head of house has the right to sue for monetary compensation.”

Sirius laughed, a sharp, angry, bitter laugh. His grandfather freed him on a technicality. He was free, but everyone still thought him guilty.


	3. Where is my Godson?

“You can forgo the brace now. I’m afraid any damage left at this point is permanent.”

“And the cane?”

“It’s up to you. I suspect you will find it useful.”

Sirius nodded, flexing his leg. It still felt weak, slightly unstable. He wouldn’t be running any marathons on it. “Thank you Mrs. Greengrass.” He paused, unsure of himself. “Why did you help me?”

“Call me Amanda, Sirius. And what do you mean, why?”

“Why did you help heal me? You and Daniel remained neutral. The entire Greengrass family remained neutral. I’ve read the papers. I may be free, but everyone still believes me guilty. So why did you help me?”

Amanda took a seat across from Sirius. “Daniel and I may be a few years older than you, but we were friends with James. Daniel’s mum went to Hogwarts at the same time as James’ mum. They were close friends. We both knew how much you meant to each other. I just never quite believed you were guilty of their betrayal. Blowing up muggles in a fit of anger and depression, yes, but not betraying them. And then there was the lack of trial. The sealing of James’ will, and Dumbledore’s placement of Harry. And then I saw you. What they did to you was so wrong.”

“Dumbledore’s placement of Harry? Isn’t he with his godmother, Alice Longbottom?”

Amanda paled. “You don’t know what happened to the Longbottoms?”

“What happened?” Sirius asked, suddenly afraid.

“Shorty after you-know-who fell, they were attacked by the Lestranges and Crouch Jr. They tortured them with the cruciatus for hours. Alice and Frank… they’re not dead, but there gone.”

“And Harry? My godson?” Sirius asked, his heart beating far to fast.

“Was never with them. Dumbledore told the press he placed Harry with his relatives so he could grow up safe and away from the spotlight.”

“But James’ parents are dead, dragonpox took them right after Harry was born. And so are Dorea and Charlus, they were presumed murdered by Death Eaters. Which only leaves…” He felt his magic swirl as he realized the only relatives Harry had left were Lily’s sister and family. Objects around the room started shaking as he lost control, rage at Dumbledore building up.

“Sirius!” shouted Amanda, “Sirius you need to calm down! What’s wrong?”

“Dumbledore!” raged Sirius, as he stood, reigning in his magic as best he could. “That bastard placed my godson with Lily’s sister. She hates magic! She’s the worst possible type of muggle! That bastard lied to me, set me up, and left me to rot!” he raged, letting lose his magic in a wave of anger.

All around the room, vases broke and portraits swung on their frames. Amanda had stumbled back, and looked at Sirius in concern as he sank to the floor.

“What in Merlin’s name is happening in here?” demanded Arcturus, entering the sitting room.

“Dumbledore,” Sirius spat. “He set me up. He told me Hagrid was taking Harry to Alice’s. She was his godmother, and Harry was to live with her before me. Neville, her boy is only a day older and she had a husband, house. She was a more stable option. But he took her to that magic hating, good for nothing, muggle sister of Lily’s. Petunia hates Lily! Hates magic! Harry cannot be raised there!”

“He was one of the people responsible for your lack of trial,” Arcturus added. “He told the Longbottoms they could come out of hiding, mere days before they were attacked. He lamented it in the papers after what happened. And he sealed James’ will. There was a big argument about it, but he won in the interest of protecting Harry.”

“He wants to control him,” Sirius spat, rising to his feet. “The bastard wants to control my godson, and I won’t let him. He would have gotten his hands on the Black fortune as well,” Sirius added, as he limped back and forth across the room.

“The Black fortune?” Arcturus asked. “How? The boy has no Black blood.”

“After Regulus died and Harry was born, I made him my legal Heir until I had a natural born son or daughter. I did not want Malfoy, or Merlin forbid Lestrange, getting their hands on the fortune.”

Arcturus nodded. While he did not approve of the Potter half-blood being in a position to inherit the Black fortunes, he could not fault his grandson’s decision, given the circumstances in which it was made. “Is there any other reason, besides money, that Dumbledore would want to control the boy?”

Sirius nodded. “To control the boy-who-lived is to control the future. We must rescue my godson from the deplorable muggles.”

“Yes,” agreed Arcturus, “we must.”

 

The first step in rescuing Harry was to determine how they were going to do so: the legal way, or the illegal way.

“We could just take him,” Sirius remarked one night as he and Arcturus sat in the study, pouring over legal laws regarding custody.

“Just take him?” Arcturus asked.

“Just show up on Petunia’s doorstep and demand she hand over my godson. I’m sure she would be more than happy to; she has always hated us “freaks” as she used to call Lily. And if not, we just, you know, take him.”

“By threatening her? Or by memory charm?” Arcturus asked, looking up from his book.

Sirius shrugged. “I hadn’t really put that much thought into it. I just know nobody is going to want to give me custody. All the light or neutral wizards think I’m a Death Eater, and I’m pretty sure most of the Death Eaters know I’m not.”

“Don’t shrug. It is unbecoming.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “But you are correct, it will be very difficult, if not impossible to legally gain custody of the boy. Are you sure you want to go this route? It will be dangerous. And illegal.”

“Well, I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t want Harry to grow up on the run from the law or anything. But I’m afraid of leaving him with Petunia.”

“I thought you liked muggles.”

“I like them fine enough. But Petunia is a horrible person, regardless of whether she has magic. And Harry is a wizard. We know this. And as such, he should be raised in the wizarding world. Perhaps we should check up on Harry first. See how Petunia is treating him and whether she would be amenable to Harry at least visiting.”

“Well I’m not going to that woman’s house,” Arcturus scoffed.

“It’s beneath me. I am a wizard and a Lord. I shall not show up announced on some middle class muggles’ doorstep.” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “There is no need to kill the muggles, but you must admit they are beneath us.”

“Different, but not beneath. When was the last time you actually were in the muggle world?”

“I attend the theatre with my daughter on a regular basis. Lucretia quite enjoys opera, as do I. On occasion we even enjoy dinner before hand.”

Sirius rolled his eyes again. “When was the last time you spent time in the normal, everyday muggle world?”

“I spent some time in it as a young man, before Phineas died. After that, father did not want to run the family and handed it over to me. I did not have time to spend gallivanting around. Besides, the muggle world is a filthy place. People don’t even bathe regularly!”

“I think you’ll find times have changed since 1925 grandfather. They have electricity, cars, and running water everywhere now. And motorcycles,” he added with a grin.

“I doubt they have changed that much.”

Sirius simply shrugged, ignoring his grandfather’s disapproving glare. The man hadn’t been out in the muggle world in almost sixty years. A quick conversation was not going to change that. “Very well, I shall go without you. Who do you recommend taking in your stead?”

“Perhaps Andromeda? You meeting with her yesterday went quite well.”

“It did indeed. Thank you for letting me use your pensive. It is much easier to convince people what happened when I can simply share my memories. Have you given thought to whether you will reinstate Andromeda?”

“I have. Theodore Tonks might be a match beneath her, but her daughter is a talented young witch.”

“Because he is a muggleborn?” Sirius asked, angrily.

“Because he is a poor commoner who does not follow our traditions. Nymphadora has never celebrated Samhain, the Harvest Festival, or one of the Solstices.”

 “Walburga and Orion did not celebrate them either. I have not participated in a proper, traditional holiday since I was eight,” Sirius added.

“The shame!” lamented Arcturus. “That damn Riddle boy did more to end the old ways in a single decade then Dumbledore has ever done. That’s it. Andromeda will bring her daughter her for the Winter Solstice and we shall celebrate it correctly. I will not have her go off to Hogwarts to be brainwashed without understanding her place in the world.”

“And Andi’s husband, Ted?”

“Fine, he can come to. As long as he leaves those despicable Chrisitian traditions behind!”

“Excellent, I shall inform Andi when ask her to join me on my visit.”


	4. Adopting Harry

“So we are going with option steal Harry,” Sirius announced, storming into Arcturus’ study, limping heavily, magic flaring.

“Sit down and control yourself,” ordered Arcturus. “Now tell me what happened.”

“Andi and I went to the house and knocked on the door. Petunia answered and proceeded to yell at us for being “freaks” and daring disturb here peace. She bitched about how it was bad enough they “dumped the brat on her doorstep and expected her to care of it.” IT! She called my godson an It! So I pushed my way in and Andi followed. There was no sign he even lived there. Andi cast a few charms, only to discover they were keeping him in a cupboard! A cupboard under the stairs! She picked Harry up and ran more scans on him. He was malnourished and bruised, so she apparated out of there. I lost my temper, then altered their memory so they would not remember Harry ever living there.”

“And where is your cousin now?”

“She took Harry to her place to grab some potions. She should be here any minute.”

“And when you say you lost your temper?”

“I cursed the damn bitch! And her husband.”

Arcturus sighed. Sirius had inherited his mother’s temper, whether he was willing to admit it or not. At least he had not inherited her insanity. At least not yet. “Did you at least cover your tracks?”

“Of course, grandfather. I am a Black, not incompetent.”

“You spent many years trying to deny that you are a Black. Forgive me for asking.”

“And look where it got me.” He took a deep breath, calming himself. “I find myself somewhat untethered after my time in Azkaban. Forgive me, grandfather.”

“Of course. Yet another reason we have a proper Solstice this year, it should help you ground yourself. It is becoming to lose control of one’s magic so easily at twenty-four.” Arcturus paused, feeling the wards ping. “I do believe Andromeda has arrived, come. Let us meet her.”

Sirius nodded and rose, following his grandfather to the receiving room.

 

“The entire wizarding world will be looking for him once Dumbledore realizes he is gone,” Andi stated as she watched Harry play with a set of blocks she had brought from her house.

“Indeed they will,” agreed Arcturus. “Which leaves us with two options. One, Sirius and Harry go into hiding, on the run from Dumbledore and his lackeys. Or two, we blood adopt the boy and raise him as a Black.”

“Blood adopt him? But that is illegal,” Andi responded.

“So is stealing a child,” Sirius quipped.

“Blood adoption is only illegal because Dumbledore and his cronies have fought to outlaw all rituals. It is not evil or dangerous, despite what the Ministry might claim. Up until the middle of the last century, it was actually quite commonly done in cases where the parentage of a child was contested or when a distant relative was adopted into the main line.”

“Contested parentage, aka the husband claims the wife is sleeping around,” Sirius muttered.

“Quite. The fact remains, blood adopting Harry into the Black family should alter his physical appearance and magical signature enough to prevent detection.”

“And how do we explain the sudden appearance of a three-year-old?” Andi asked. “People will notice.”

“Regulus,” Sirius responded.

“Regulus?”

“We claim Harry is the bastard child of Regulus, who I have chosen to raise in memory of my brother. That way if the blood adoption is some how found out, we have a valid excuse. A child born out of wedlock, even if believed to be Regulus’ might not be,” Sirius explained.

“In that situation, it would be entirely expected for us to blood adopt the child before allowing him to be a possible heir.”

“It could work,” Andi agreed. “But how do we explain why we did not take custody until now?”

“Easy. Everyone knows Regulus and I were not on the best of terms,” Sirius admitted sadly, “It is entirely believable that I did not know about the child until I was sorting through his things after being released. Once I found out he had a child, I had to track the child down. Clearly he was an orphan, and therefore difficult to find.”

“We will need to create documentation. Paper trails, a birth mother, a letter from Regulus. Not to mention, we will have to deal with Walburga. She is not likely to sit back,” Andi pointed out.

“Walburga will not be a problem,” Arcturus cut in. “I confined her to Grimauld after Sirius ran away. No, our biggest challenge will be hiding the scar. Paper trails are easy to buy and I have a vial of Regulus’ blood somewhere. We can blood adopt Harry to both Sirius and Regulus.”

“It is a curse scar,” Andi added. “I believe I have a book on diagnostic spells I can look at to try to figure out more about it.”

“Is it settled then? We blood adopt Harry as Regulus’ child?”

“It is settled,” Arcturus agreed. “Sirius, pick an appropriate name and mother for the boy. Andromeda, look into his curse scar and find a way to hide it. I will create the paper trail.”

 

**Dec 21 st, 1983**

 

Sirius woke early on the Solstice, eager for the day to begin. Swinging his legs out of bed, he grabbed his can and limped into the bathroom, turning the shower on hot. Sleepily, he undressed, then stepped under the hot water, letting it run down his back, waking him up. Massaging his right leg, he relaxed under the water, relishing the feeling of being clean. He wasn’t sure he would ever forget the constant griminess of Azkaban.

After showering, he combed out his hair, tying the top half up with a leather stip. He was still waiting for it to be long enough to braid after Amanda had cut it when he was first released. Wearing only his bathrobe, he returned to his room to dress. The robe he donned was traditional in style. He wore a tunic like under robe in forest green that tied with a crisscross of strings at the chest. The outer robe was black, with simple yet delicate embroidery done in silver around the edges. It clasped in the front with an elegant silver broach shaped like the Black family crest. Lastly, he donned a simple pair of knee-high lace up boots before exiting the room.

“Good morning grandfather,” he greeted, sitting down at the table. “When are we preforming the blood adoption?”

“Good morning Sirius. Happy Yule to you. We shall perform the adoption at sunrise, right before we light the yule log. At sun down, we will scoop some of the ash from the log for use in Andromeda’s cleansing and protection ritual.”

Sirius nodded, thanking Lolly as she placed a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of him. “And when does everyone arrive?”

“Just before lunch. I do not want an excess of people knowing Procyon’s real identity.”

“Very well,” Sirius agreed, glancing at his watch. “Sunrise is in just under an hour. Shall I fetch Harry?”

“Yes. Mipsy should have fed and dressed him by now.”

Sirius stood, nodding to his grandfather as he headed off to the nursery. When he arrived, Harry, or Procyon as he supposed he should get used to thinking was indeed fed and dressed in a simple white robe. “Hey buddy,” he greeted. “How was breakfast?”

“Good, I had eggs,” Harry announced, standing and running over to Sirius.

Sirius bent down, scooping his godson into his arms and settling him on his right hip. “Shall we join Grandfather? We have a ceremony to do this morning.”

“Cewemony?”

“We are going to adopt you into the family,” Sirius explained as he made his way towards the ritual room.

“Hurt?” Harry asked, nervously.

“No, it won’t hurt. You have to drink a yucky potion, but that’s all.”

“No like potions.”

“Nor do I bud,” Sirius laughed as reached the stairwell to the basement. “Walk for me bud?” he asked, sliding Harry off his hip.

“O’tay.”

The duo arrived in the ritual room just as Arcturus was pouring a vial of blood into a cauldron. “Good. Place Harry in the center of the circle, would you?” Sirius nodded, guiding Harry into the center of the circle carved in the floor. “It’s time,” Arcturus announced, with a vial of potion in his hand.

“Alright. Buddy, we are going to say a lot of fancy words, then I’m going to give you a potion to drink. After you can have some pumpkin juice, but I need to you to drink all of it, okay?”

“O’tay,” Harry agreed.

Sirius nodded, and Arcturus began reciting. “I, Arcturus Castor Black adopt Harry James Potter into the family of Black by blood and by magic.”

“I Sirius Orion Black, godfather of Harry James Potter, do adopt Harry James Potter into the family of Black by blood and by magic.”

“I, Arcturus Castor Black, grandfather of Regulus Arcturus Black, do adopt Harry James Potter as son to Regulus Arcturus Black by blood and by magic.” Arcturus nodded to Sirius, who tipped the potion into Harry’s lips. “I, Arcturus Castor Black, Head of the Black Family now proclaim the boy formerly known as Harry James Potter to be Procyon Rigel Black.”

Sirius and Arcturus watched as Harry's bright green eyes changed color to a more greenish-grey, his hair curled slightly, and his face sharpened. Sirius could still see James and Lily in his looks, but they were masked by Black family traits. With the scar covered, nobody would know who he really was.

“All done,” Sirius smiled, handing Harry a goblet of Pumpkin juice. “Welcome to the Black family Procyon.”

“I’m Pw’cy’n now?” Harry asked, tripping over the name.

“Yes, you are Proycon,” Sirius repeated, saying the name slowly. “Although I think a nickname might be in need. How about Cy?”

“Cy?” Harry asked. “I like Cy.”

“Alright Cy. Let’s head upstairs before the rest of the family gets here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on Harry's new name. I decided to stick with a star name for him because he is being adopted by a black. I chose Proycon Rigel because of the winter circle. The Winter Circle is a circle of stars otherwise known as the Orion constellation. It first becomes visible on the night of December 21st, which is the night they blood adopt Harry. The constellation includes Sirius, with Rigel and Procyron on either side. Pollux is also in the constellation, meaning Harry's new name has Rigel (for Regulus, his supposed father) and Proycon which both come from the Orion constellation (his grandfather) which contains Sirius (godfather, raising him) and Pollux (great-grandfather). The only thing missing is Arcturus. (the other stars in the constellation are Castor, Capella, Aldebaran, and Betelgeuse. I don't like the first three as much as Proycon and I can't imagine Arcturus allowing Sirius to name him Betelgeuse)


	5. Yule

Sirius sat in front of the Yule fire, watching the log burn. It was peaceful and warm, feelings he had grown to appreciate more than ever. He had always been quick to anger, to lash out as a child. He wore his heart on his sleeve, even if he could hide his feelings like a true Slytherin. He just never felt the need. Everyone knew he hated the family, why try to hide it? He had run away from everything at sixteen, determined never to return or even look back. But here he was, living in the Black Manor with his grandfather, celebrating the yule with the very family he promised to hate.

“May I join you?”

Sirius looked up from the burning log. “Of course Aunt Lucretia, please take a seat.”

Lucretia sat gracefully down in a chair next to Sirius, settling against the pillows. She was a middle aged witch, stiff and stern, but Sirius had never minded her. As long as you were polite and respectful, she was the same. “It must be odd for you, back here. I remember when you ran away. Quite a stir you caused. Walburga blasted you off the tapestry, Orion disowned you. It was worse than Andromeda marrying the muggle.”

“Theodore is a wizard, Aunt Lucretia. And I am well aware of the “stir” I caused running off.” He turned to her sharply. “But I was not going to live in that house another moment. Not with that…” he spat, trailing off.

“Careful what you say boy. Your parents might not have treated you the best,” she glared at him as he spluttered, “but Orion was my brother. And he was Arcturus’ son. It is best you remember that.”

Sirius rubbed his chest absently, as he stared at the yule, calming his magic. “Of course Aunt Lucretia, thank you for reminding me.”

“You are welcome.” Her face softened as she too stared at the log. “They were wrong, of course. Family, blood… those are the most important things. Orion was a good boy growing up, but not particularly strong magically. He was always drawn to those more powerful than him, such as that Riddle boy. Unfortunately, he forgot not all power is determined by raw magical strength.”

“And Walburga?”

“The bitch is crazy,” snorted Lucretia. She coughed lightly, clearing her throat. “But don’t you dare tell Pollux or Irma that,” she finished, regaining her lady-like composer.

“And Walburga herself?” Sirius asked with a smirk.

“If you are dumb enough to insult her to her face, well, be my guest.”

Sirius laughed, relaxing back into his chair. To insult Walburga was to invite cursing and rage. Everyone agreed she was a bit barmy, but nobody talked about it. It felt oddly liberating to insult the woman who made his life hell growing up, in a well, Black sort of way.

“Now come along, everyone else is in the parlor, and you cannot hide here forever.”

“I cannot?” Sirius asked, teasing as he stood. “Let me face the jury then. Shall we?” he asked, holding out his free arm to guide his aunt to the parlor.

 

The parlor was a grand room with high ceilings, designed centuries ago to host all sorts of sophisticated guests. The walls, like most of the Manor (well, castle actually) were made of large pieces of stone. In the parlor, however, they were lined with intricate tapestries that depicted scenes ranging from the pre-roman ritual days to witch burns of the seventeenth century. Above the grand fireplace was a set of swords, crossed in front of a shield bearing the Black crest. The chairs and tables were made of a dark wood with elegantly embroidered cushions. Sirius found them inordinately uncomfortable, but they did help create the imposing atmosphere of the parlor.

“Good of you to join us, Sirius,” Arcturus greeted, rising from his chair by the fire. “Thank you for escorting my daughter.”

“Of course grandfather, it was a pleasure,” he replied, bowing his head slightly. Turning to his left, he smiled gently. “Happy Yule Grandfather Pollux, Grandmother Irma. How are you?”

“We are well, Sirius. Thank you for asking,” Irma replied politely.

“I see you’ve come to your sense,” Pollux added. “Are you done running around with mudbloods and halfbreeds?”

Sirius bit back his anger, taking a moment to breath. “Muggleborn, grandfather. The correct term is muggleborn. I ask you use it. One of my best friends was muggleborn after all. As is one of your grandsons in law.”

“Hmph,” Pollux replied, turning to Arcturus. “And you cousin? What is your opinion?”

Arcturus smiled demurely. “I see no reason not to use polite terminology, even with family. Swearing is unbecoming of a Black.”

“Very well,” acquiesced Pollux, guiding Irma away to join his sister, Cassiopeia. Sirius had no doubt the pair would continue to insult muggleborns and muggles, but at least they would no longer do so to his or Ted’s face.

“Is that Melania next to Andi?” Sirius asked, looking over to the corner of the room.

Arcturus smiled, genuinely. “Yes, my wife returned from her trip yesterday. She spent the day with the MacMillans before heading over. They have a boy Procyon’s age. I believe he would be a suitable playmate.”

“Of course. Now, let me say hello to my grandmother,” Sirius replied, guiding his grandfather to the corner.

“Sirius, my dear!” Melania greeted, pulling him into a hug. “It is so good to see you again.” She drew back, looking him up and down appraising him. “You are far too thin. Has Lolly been feeding you?”

“Of course grandmother, every chance she gets. The weight will return soon enough. But how was your trip?”

“It was marvelous; the Italian countryside is just gorgeous this time of year. I am sad I missed your return, though.”

“Not at all. The beginning was quite boring I’m afraid. I mostly just slept and read. But I am glad your trip was lovely. He’ll never admit it, but grandfather missed you terribly.”

“Of course he won’t, he is a Slytherin through and through. To show emotion is to show weakness. But Andromeda’s husband, Theodore, well he is a refreshing break.”

“A Hufflepuff?”

“Indeed. A good man, she married,” Melania smiled with a stare towards he husband. “Will their daughter be attending this evening?”

“She is in the nursery with the boys,” Sirius responded.

“Right, Regulus’ son,” she smiled, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Procyon Rigel Black is his name now,” Arcturus reminded her.

“Of course, of course. You may have acted rashly, but I believe it was for the better,” she added in a whisper to Sirius. “Come, let us begin lunch. I have been up since before sunrise with hardly a morsel to eat.”

 

As dusk approached, Andromeda scooped a small shovel of yule ash into a vial. “It’s time for the blessing,” she remarked, brushing herself off as she stood. “Will you fetch the children while I finish preparing?”

“Of course,” Sirius replied. “Mipsy!”

“Yes Young Master Sirius?”

“Will you fetch Arcturus and inform him it is time for the blessing? I will bring the children to the ritual room.”

“Yes Young Master Sirius. Mipsy will inform Master Arcturus,” she responded, disappearing with a pop.

Sirius made his way to the nursery where all the children were (despite Nymphadora’s protest that she did not belong in a nursery anymore. She was eleven now!). He reached the room and paused in the doorway, watching the three. Dora was drawing, tongue sticking out slightly between her lips as she concentrated, while Draco and Harry were stacking blocks in the center of the room. “Hello everyone,” Sirius greeted, stepping all the way into the room.

“Hello cousin Sirius,” Dora greeted. “Is it time for mum’s thing?”

“Yes, it is time for the blessing. Will you take Draco’s hand? We need to head downstairs.”

Dora nodded solemnly, slipping Draco’s hand into hers. “Come along Draco,” she announced, in her most adult voice. “It is time for us to head downstairs.”

“Cawwy?” Harry asked, holding his hands up for Sirius to lift him.

“To the staircase, Cy,” Sirius agreed, arranging the toddler on his hip.

When they reached the room, all of the Blacks by blood were waiting while Andi finished stirring in a cauldron. “To the middle of the circle, you three,” she ordered, smiling.

Dora nodded, guiding the younger two to the center of the ritual circle. They sat down, waiting patiently in silence as Andi drew a series of runes on their faces using the yule ash paste. Once she finished, she left the circle and nodded to the group.

“I Arcturus Castor Black, head of the Black Family, do bless and ask for protection for the children of the House of Black; Nymphadora Tonks, Draco Armand Malfoy, and Procyon Rigel Black,” Arcturus began.

Around the room they went, each Black by blood, blessing and asking for protection for the children. When they were done, the group grew silent, holding their breath and watching. Slowly, the runes drawn on the children my Andromeda were absorbed into their skin, until none remained.

“It worked,” breathed Andromeda with a smile.

“Thank you for including my son,” Narcissa added, making eye contact with her sister. Andromeda nodded as Narcissa collected Draco and the group began breaking apart.


	6. Planning Begins

**Feb 19 th, 1984**

Sirius awoke, breathing heavily. He shivered, and looked around the room. It was empty, the fire nearly dead. “Tempus,” he muttered, holding his wand. Three twenty in the morning. He groaned, sitting up. There was no way he was going back to sleep tonight. Holding his wand in his right hand to light his way, Sirius limped through the Manor, dressed only in his flannel sleep pants. He made his way to the kitchen, turning on the kettle and settling down at the table.

He sat at the table, drinking his tea and sitting in silence, simply thinking. The nightmares were growing less frequent, but he still awoke in the middle of the night on a regular basis. Every time it grew cold in his room, he was dragged back to the hell that was Azkaban. When he finished his first cup of tea, he poured himself another, still staring off into space.

It was nearly six before another soul joined him. He shook his head, clearing his mind as he heard footsteps enter the kitchen. “Grandmother?” he asked, seeing Melania enter.

“Mipsy told me I would find you here,” she explained, pouring herself a cup of tea and joining him at the table.

“Couldn’t sleep,” muttered Sirius in response.

Melania nodded, her eyes drifting down to Sirius’ bare torso. It was littered with scars, some old some newer, some small some larger. Her eyes caught a deep one, cut into his left breast, right over his heart. “Traitor,” it read in jagged lettering.

“Walburga,” Sirius simply stated seeing his grandmother’s gaze. “The night I ran away.”

“You never told what happened.”

“No,” Sirius agreed. “I was… ashamed. And afraid.”

“Do you want to tell?”

Sirius looked down, staring into his tea. A few minutes passed before he looked up again, his eyes young and sad. It reminded Melania just how young he really was. Only twenty four, still really a child. “He liked to mark his followers at sixteen. Old enough to fight, but not yet of age. That way they couldn’t escape before graduation.”

“You had just turned sixteen.”

Sirius nodded. “It was the beginning of winter break. I was ordered to accompany Bellatrix on a raid. I didn’t want to.”

“So she did that?”

“No. She had him cast an imperius. He ordered me to join the raid, to attack and burn down a muggle neighborhood. I…I tried to fight it but I couldn’t. I…I killed a girl. She was just a child.” Sirius shook, the memory overwhelming him. “I killed her.”

“No,” soothed Melania, moving to stand next to him. She gently wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug as he cried. “You did not kill her, it was not your fault.”

“I killed James too. And Lily. It’s all my fault,” he cried, burying his face into her arm.

“It is not your fault, Sirius. It is not your fault. You did everything you could to help your friends. You did everything you could to end the violence. It is not your fault you were betrayed. Not yours at all.” She continued to hold him, embracing him with love and warmth. So much pain, she could feel it, rolling off his body in waves, his magic swirling. The two stayed there, him sitting and her standing behind him, hugging him gently until the tea grew cold. Slowly, she relaxed her grip, letting him slump down in exhaustion. “Come,” she whispered softly. “Let’s get you back to bed. The day can wait.”

 

The morning served as a catalyst for Sirius. All the pain, shame, and loneliness he had been bottling up were suddenly let loose. He cried, remembering the good times and bad. He shared his pain and suffering with Melania, who listened silently, offering comfort when needed, but mostly just listened.

And then he raged. His magic swirling angrily at the surface, ready to lash out at any moment. He raged against Peter, his parents, Voldemort, Dumbledore, society itself. He spent hours in the forest, destroying trees with reductos and bombardos until he sank to the ground in exhaustion. And then, as suddenly as the rage began, it stopped.

“Are you done,” Arcturus asked as Sirius returned from the forest one day in mid-April.

“Done?” Sirius asked.

“Throwing a tantrum like a child.”

“I was not throwing…” he began before Arcturus cut him off.

“You were. But, then again, you are hardly older than a child. Are you done?”

Sirius sank down into the chair across from his grandfather. “Yes, I am done.”

“Good. Then it is time to seek revenge.” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “We are Blacks. Nobody dares act against us. Many have, and it is time they learned their lesson.”

“And what will we teach them?”

“That the Blacks are the top. The most powerful, the top of the food chain.”

“How?”

Arcturus smirked viciously, his eyes cold as steel. “We re-take the wizarding world.”

 

The plan was more complex than simply “re-take the wizarding world,” but the intention remained the same. So, Arcturus called a family meeting. Everyone, all at once, in the Manor. There hadn’t been a family meeting since 1968. Since the first members of the Black family took the dark mark. Sixteen years, a long time for members to grow apart, to grow bitter. But they came; Pollux and Irma, Cassiopeia. Druella and her daughters, Andromeda and Narcissa. Lucius and Ted came as well, the children following, both men increasingly nervous as more and more joined the gathering. Lucretia brought Ignatius, and Callidora brought Harfang. Walburga was the only one who did not, having grown even madder, confined to Grimauld.

“We let a madman destroy our world,” Arcturus began, his deep voice instantly silencing the crowd. “We let a madman half-blood destroy our world simply because he was a descendent of Slytherin. But he was not worthy of the name,” he spat, starring at the members who openly supported the Dark Lord. “He stole our children, marked them like slaves, and killed our families. Regulus. Dorea. Bellatrix. Orion. Alphard. All dead or gone at the hands of the madman. Avery. Black. Burke. Flint. Lestrange. Nott. Rosier. Rowle. All families of the sacred twenty-eight who openly supported him yet lost members directly by his hand. Prewett. Longbottom. Shacklebolt. Ollivander. Weasley. Abbott. All families of the scared twenty-eight who lost members to his madness. Bones. Potter. Meadows. Diggory. Brown. Families who were good, traditional families, destroyed by war. Even Bustrode, Carrow, Crouch, Malfoy, and Parkinson lost members or property in the aftermath. For a man who supposedly supported pureblood supremacy, he did more to end us then Dumbledore, Grindewald, and the muggleborn reforms of the fifties did combined.” He paused, looking around the room. “There are, in this room, those of you who supported. Who bear his mark on your arm. No more. No more will any of you support a madman determined to end us. And if you do, I will end you.” Arcturus nodded, sitting back into his seat. The room was silent, as everyone processed what he had just said.

“Are you trying to say Dumbledore was right?” asked Pollux in disbelief.

Sirius laughed loudly, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Support Dumbledore? The man who threw me in prison without even a trial? The man who is determined to end the traditional ways? No. We will not support Dumbledore. We will not support Riddle. We will not support anyone. We are Blacks. Whether by blood or by marriage, we are Blacks. Blacks do not support madmen in their quest to change the world. We mold the world to our own desires.”

“Then what do we support? What is our goal?” Cassiopeia asked.

“We will bring back the old ways,” Arcturus began. “The traditions and beliefs wizards have followed for hundreds of years. We remind everyone of the connection they share with magic, the intimate tie that gives us control. And we remind the sacred families what it means to be a sacred family. What it means to be a Lord in the wizarding world.”

“And muggleborns?” Harfang asked, curious. The Longbottoms were a traditional family, but not a dark one.

“We have been dealing with muggleborns incorrectly for generations,” Arcturus admitted.

“Incorrectly?” Druella drawled. “They are lesser than us, what else is there to say?”

Sirius shared a look with his grandfather, and then spoke. “You say muggleborns are lesser, why is that?” he asked.

“They don’t know our ways! They dirty our system by arguing against us and then break the statute!”

“Let me address your first point,” Sirius began. “They don’t know our ways. If you took a pureblood child, say Draco, and gave him to a muggle family to raise, would he know our ways when he receives his letter at eleven?”

Druella spluttered, and Lucius opened his mouth to say something, but Narcissa spoke first. “He would not,” she admitted softly.

“Precisely. Now, Theodore,” he asked, turning to Andromeda and her husband. “Who taught you the wizarding traditions and their significance?”

Ted paused, and looked at his wife for support. She nodded, and he spoke. “Nobody. At least not until this year when Lord Black decided to let Andromeda back into the family.”

“If nobody taught him our ways, how can we expect him to know them?” Sirius asked, starring down the room. “But onto point number two. They dirty our system by arguing against it. I think this fits nicely with number one. Give me an example, Druella.”

“Lucy Rainwright fought to outlaw blood magic in the forties! And she succeeded.”

“And what were her arguments?”

“That it was evil.”

“I think it was a bit more complex,” Sirius remarked, “but we will keep it simple. In the late thirties and early forties, Grindewald was indeed, using blood magic for nefarious purposes. There was also the case of the stolen Yaxley Heir through blood adoption rituals. Both, arguably, evil events. So Rainwright fought to outlaw blood adoption and the like to prevent such an event from happening again. Am I correct Cassiopeia?” Cassiopeia nodded, bringing silence to the table. She was an expert on history after all. “Rainwright was a muggleborn, unfamiliar with the important role blood adoption plays in families such as ours. Yes, she was naïve. But nobody bothered teaching muggleborns what blood adoption could be used for; we were too busy passing laws to prevent them from finding work. So she teamed up with Dumbledore, who fresh off his defeat of Grindewald had enough political power to not only ban blood adoption, but all blood based rituals.”

“But she was wrong,” Irma concluded.

“She was misinformed,” retorted Andromeda.

“I think, perhaps, this is an argument for another time,” interrupted Arcturus.

“Right, point three. Muggleborns break the statute. Sure, we have to tell their immediate family- parents and siblings- about magic, but the bigger problem is actually adults. Did you know over fifty percent of muggleborns eventually return to living full time in the muggle world?”

“That many?” Andromeda asked. “I knew several did, as many of Ted’s friends have, but I didn’t realize it was over fifty percent.”

Sirius nodded. “We, as a society, have made it almost impossible for a muggleborn witch or wizard to survive in the wizarding world unless they marry into a wealthy pureblood or half-blood family.”

“Even Ted and I had a hard time of it at first,” Andromeda admitted. “Without the support of the family or my dowry, we struggled. It’s why Ted works in the muggle world.”

“Wanted to write for the paper,” Ted explained, “but the Prophet wouldn’t even interview me. The others weren’t much better.”

“So sure, muggleborns tend to return to the muggle world putting the statute at risk, but only because they must either return or starve.”

“Which brings us back to the main issue,” Arcturus continued. “Between Dumbledore and Riddle, most of the twenty-eight are almost gone. The traditionalists down to a few members, and the rest have given up on the old ways in favor of surviving. So we bring the ways back.”

“Where will we start?” Lucretia asked.

“The harvest festival,” Sirius responded with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always found it interesting that nobody seemed to notice/care that Voldemort based his entire campaign on blood purity, yet seemed to kill off, torture, or cause the imprisonment of most of the purebloods.


	7. The Harvest Festival

**Aug 1 st, 1984**

Sirius loved the Harvest Festival. Samhain was for respecting the dead and Yule for family, but the Harvest Festival was basically a giant party. Sure, it was a celebration of the earth and to hope for a successful harvest, but it involved a lot of food, drink, games, and good times. So, on August 1st, Sirius awoke with the morning sun to dress.

He donned a traditional burgundy tunic made of light cotton with silver embroidery in the shape of leaves. The tunic was tight fitting across the chest and arms, but loose past the waist for ease of movement. The ties across the chest were more formal than normal, with silver thread blended with the burgundy. Over the tunic he wore a black summer weight coat with matching silver and burgundy embroidery. On his right breast the Black family crest was stitched, and the buttons bore the coat of arms. Finally, he pulled on a pair of knee high dragon scale boots, completing his outfit. Grabbing his cane (black, with a silver lions head top and snake spiraling down the shaft), he practically floated down the hall to the dining room.

“Good morning Grandfather, Grandmother,” he greeted, taking his seat as Lolly served him a bowl of fruit and yogurt.

“Good morning Sirius. You look very handsome this morning,” Melania greeted.

“Thank you. Aethel did a lovely job with the robes this year. You look lovely as well. Have you convinced Grandfather to dress the part of the Harvest Lord yet?”

Melania smiled, “I enlisted Procyon’s help. He gave Arcturus the sweetest little pout until he relented.”

“Of course he did,” laughed Sirius. “I spent an entire afternoon working on that pout with him.”

“Good for nothing grandson,” Arcturus muttered, “Why again am I letting you raise the boy?”

“It’s hardly just me. I do live in the same house as you after all.”

“It’s big enough to go days without you two seeing each other,” Andi greeted, sweeping into the room. She too was wearing a traditional set of robes, in striking mix of green and brown. “Good morning Arcturus, Melania, Sirius.”

“Good morning, Andromeda dear. Are you ready for the festival?” Melania asked.

“I am, it has been far too long since I have been to a proper festival. I always celebrate with a small feast at home, but the festival is different.”

“The festival is where the magic is,” agreed Sirius.

“Another place where I have failed,” sighed Arcturus. “I stopped hosting the festival when the war started. I believe ’69 was the last year we had one. It is a shame almost everyone forgot what it means.”

“Aethel says the village is filled with excitement,” Sirius remarked. “When I went down to pick up my robes yesterday it looked amazing. Decorations everywhere, the largest table I’ve ever seen for the feast, and a platform for you to speak from, Grandfather.”

“I’ve never enjoyed playing the role of the Harvest Lord,” grumbled Arcturus.

“The burdens of Lordship, dear,” Melania smiled, rising from the table. “I think I will check up on Procyon. Is Nmyphadora in the nursery with him?”

“Begrudgingly, but yes,” Andi replied. “She cannot wait until she has started Hogwarts so she can stay with the adults.”

“She’ll change her tune after her first formal affair,” laughed Sirius.

“Perhaps,” agreed Andi. “But you were the same at her age.”

 

After breakfast, the group made their way to the village. Black Manor, or Castle Deorc as it used to be known, sat at the top of small hill on the edge of Kielder Forest. At the base of the hill, there was a fair sized wizarding village that bordered the forest. The village had grown out of the smattering of farms that served Castle Deorc in return for protection. Over the centuries, the village had grown to encompass a decent market street, small day school, and dozens of houses. Protected by the extensive wards set up by the Black family over generations, the village remained hidden from muggles (and Ministry to an extent). Kielder Clearing, as it was known, was actually the largest concentration of wizards in Northumberland.

Kielder Clearing had an especially interesting history as unlike most of the wizarding world, it had disappeared from muggle eyes back in the seven hundreds when the lands around became a center of Christianity. Christian superstitions regarding magic combined with Black family paranoia (the Blaec Family at the time) resulted in the hiding of Kielder Clearing. As a result, the town was highly traditional, even if it was not entirely pureblood. Even after the town was hidden, the residents continued to mix and marry with local merchants and farmers.

Today the village was full of witches and wizards of all ages dressed in traditional robes bustling about in preparation for the feast. At the edge of the village, a large field had been converted to an outdoor banquet hall, complete with silver plates, goblets, and cutlery. A large canopy covered about half the tables, providing a respite from the sun. In the center of the town, there was a stage, currently set up for a performance, chairs placed in front of it. A few witches and wizards had already staked out optimal seats either up front or in the rapidly diminishing shade.

“Come on Cy, Dora,” Sirius called, making his way to a crowd of children and parents. “The best part of the morning is the games. I believe there should be prizes as well.”

“What type of games?” Dora asked, skipping ahead to join Sirius and Harry.

“Well, I think there is a gnome tossing competition, a broom race, an obstacle course, and a few more sedate ones. Shall we check it out?”

“Brooms!” shouted Harry in excitement, rushing ahead of Sirius.

“Try not to let them get too dirty!” chided Andi as she turned towards and art display. “I’ll send a patronus when Ernie or Draco arrives.”

“Cleaning charms,” laughed Sirius, following the two kids, “dirt is what cleaning charms are for!”

They arrived at the games area right as the gnome tossing competition was about to start. Dora eagerly joined in, stepping up next to a crowd of pre-Hogwarts students while Sirius lifted Harry onto his shoulders to see better.

“Hello Sirius,” greeted Daniel Greengrass, his eldest daughter perched on his shoulders.

“Hello Daniel! And Daphne. When did you arrive?”

“This morning. Amanda is with Astoria, checking out the flower competition.”

“I’ll have to check that out later, I heard Harfang had a hand in it.”

“The Longbottoms have always been good with plants. I wonder if Augusta is here with Neville.”

“I think Harfang convinced her to go. I know she still disapproves of the Blacks, but my grandfather has done his best to make amends.”

“He has done an admirable job organizing the festival as well,” Daniel noted. “It is good for us all to get together again, without the fear of war.”

“Too many have been lost,” Sirius agreed, “I only hope we can recover and prosper once more.”

“Look!” Harry shouted, pointing at Dora who had stepped up for her turn.

“Dora’s turn. Are you going to root for her?”

Harry nodded, “Go Dora!” he shouted from Sirius’ shoulders as Dora tossed her gnomes. One went flying, but she stumbled as she launched the second, her hair turning bright red in embarrassment.

“Nice job Dora!” Sirius shouted as she turned and made her way back to him.

“I didn’t win,” she grumbled.

“No, but it was an admirable effort. Come, I saw a petting zoo to our right. Daniel?”

“Sure, we’ll join you,” he agreed, swinging Daphne off his shoulders so she could run ahead with Dora and Harry.

 

By the afternoon feast, Draco and Ernie MacMillan had joined the group, and all the children had worn themselves out. Sirius watched from his place at the Black table as the children laughed and ate, soaking in the jubilant atmosphere. It was a beautiful day, and it had been a beautiful festival. His grandfather, despite his reluctance, had done an admirable job as the Harvest Lord, welcoming the harvest and wishing the farmers a bountiful crop. As the feast wound down, the children were sent home as the adult part of the festival began.

All around town, barrels of cider and mead were brought out, and a band began playing on the stage in the center of town. Sirius meandered through the crowd, greeting people on occasion, but mostly just feeling the magic. The town was thick with magic as all the witches and wizards relaxed, connecting with nature. Sirius too, let his control relax, feeling his magic reach out to the world around him. It was an amazing feeling, connecting with the magic around him. Similar to the feeling when one crossed the Hogwarts wards, but happier, more carefree. As he sipped his cider, the effect of the alcohol and magic took hold, and he felt himself relax in a way he hadn’t since Azkaban. Since leaving Hogwarts, really.

As darkness fell, the crowd grew more and more intoxicated- off both alcohol and magic. All around him, Sirius caught sight of young men and women disappearing to more private spots. The Harvest Festival was also a celebration of fertility, a celebration of life to come. Many of the children born in Kielder Clearing were born nine months after the festival. The magic of love helped fuel the town wards and connect the witches and wizards to their own magic. It was a beautiful thing.

 

The next morning Sirius stumbled out of bed toward the dining room, head pounding. With only a grunt of acknowledgement, he plopped into a seat.

“Hungover?” Arcturus asked, cracking a smile at his grandson’s obvious discomfort. Sirius merely groaned in response. “Magic or alcohol?”

“Magic? Both? I don’t care,” he moaned, sinking his head into his hands.

“Mipsy,” Arcturus called, waiting for the elf to appear. “Bring Sirius a hangover potion. And a few extras in case someone else needs one.”

“Yes Master Arcturus. Mipsy will be right back,” the elf promised, disappearing with a pop.

A moment later, the promised hangover potion appeared in front of Sirius and he rapidly gulped it down. As a plate off eggs appeared in front of him, he felt his headache disappear and his mind clear. “Much better,” he announced, starting on his eggs.

“Well then, good morning Sirius. How was your night last night?”

“It was lovely, thank you grandfather. I had forgotten how amazing the magic of the festival was.”

“As had I,” added Andromeda, entering the room and sitting down gracefully. Sirius stared at her lack of headache in annoyance. “I already drank a potion Sirius. I’m a healer, I always have a potion on hand.”

“And how was your night?”

“Delightful,” she smiled, a dreamy look appearing on her face.

Sirius spluttered, grabbing a sip of tea. “With Ted I hope?”

“Of course,” she replied, still looking dreamy. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Sirius blushed, stuttering. “I…I had some company,” he muttered.

“Goodness children,” Arcturus complained, “we are at the breakfast table. What would you grandmother think?”

“Melania would probably laugh,” Sirius replied. “But Irma…”

“Not something I want to think about while eating,” Andromeda replied.

“Nor me,” shuddered Sirius, returning to his eggs.


	8. Boy-Who-Lived: Kidnapped!

**Oct 6 th, 1984**

“Bloody hell, it took him an entire year to notice?” Sirius swore, entering his grandfather’s study, newspaper in hand.

“Language Sirius. And a year to notice what?”

“It took Dumbledore a year to notice Harry was no longer living with Petunia,” he stated angrily. “I know we don’t want him coming after us, but really? A year to notice a child was kidnapped?”

“Calm yourself,” Arcturus said, taking the paper from Sirius’ arms. “Let me read the article.”

“Of course, grandfather,” he replied, handing over the paper and breathing deeply. He had regained much of his control over the last year and handled his temper better, but every time Dumbledore did something stupid, well, it was easy to lose it again.

“He is claiming Harry must have been taken recently,” Arcturus noted. “While deplorable as the man who placed him there, this is good for us.”

Sirius nodded. “If everyone thinks Harry was taken recently, they will never think to connect him with Procyon. After all, Procyon came to live with us in December.”

“And if he does know the real date, there is still the month we kept him entirely hidden.”

“Can we use this to our advantage?”

“Of course,” Arcturus scoffed. “I can use everything to my advantage. But this will make things much easier. All we need is an official inquest into Dumbledore’s actions regarding the boy, and we can begin taking him down.”

“We cannot ask for the inquest of course. While our dealings with the old families have convinced many I am the Dark Lord’s right hand man, the masses still believe it.”

“And Dumbledore will do his best to reinforce that belief. Not to mention drawing an additional scrutiny to our family is dangerous, no matter how unlikely it is people will connect the dots.”

“Then who?”

“The Greengrasses would be a good choice in that they remained neutral and have a reputation of being fair.”

“Not to mention Daniel was a known friend of James’ and they have a daughter Harry’s age. But if we could convince Augusta…”

“Alice was his godmother. Yes, convincing Longbottom will be difficult. Can we do it?”

Sirius thought for a moment, running his hands through his hair. “I doubt you would be able to, but perhaps I could.”

“You?”

“I showed her my memories last month. She believes in my innocence, if not the entire family’s.”

“Then how will you explain why you did not seek the boy yourself?”

“The truth. I knew nobody would support my legal claim to his guardianship. I believed Harry would have been placed in accordance to James and Lily’s wishes and was better off growing up away from his fame.”

Arcturus looked his grandson in the eye, calculating. “It could work.”

“Even better, it is all technically the truth. I could state all of it under veritserum or a truth spell.”

“How Slytherin of you.”

Sirius smiled dangerously. “You do enjoy reminding me that I was raised Slytherin. Being a Gryffindor got my friends killed and myself thrown in jail. Perhaps I have learned the value of acting Slytherin.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Arcturus, waving him away.

 

Sirius managed to secure a meeting with Augusta the following week at Longbottom Manor. So, gathering Harry, he flooed to her house.

“Welcome to Longbottom Manor, Mr. Black,” Augusta greeted. She was dressed in an old fashioned set of robes, a hideous vulture hat perched upon her head.

“Sirius, if you please Mrs. Longbottom. And this is Procyon, or Cy as we call him. He is Regulus’ son, but I adopted him last year.”

“Hello Procyon,” she greeted. “My grandson Neville is in the nursery if you wish to join him.”

“I would like that, thank you,” Harry responded, looking up at Sirius for confirmation he responded correctly. Sirius nodded approvingly and Harry smiled.

“Nibs,” Augusta called an elf to her, “Take Procyon to the nursery to join Neville.”

“Yes Mistress Longbottom,” the elf agreed, guiding Harry out of the room.

“So,” Augusta began, walking out of the receiving room towards the parlor. “What brings you here today?”

“I have come to ask for your help.”

“My help?”

“Yes. As you are likely aware, Dumbledore admitted to “losing” track of Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. Harry, beyond being a wizarding celebrity is my godson. I wish to open an investigation into Dumbledore’s actions. To find out how he managed to circumvent James and Lily’s wishes and place the boy with the muggles.”

“And why do you require my help?” she asked, sitting down in a high backed chair as a tea for two appeared.

“Because the most of the world thinks the only reason I would be interested in what happened to my godson would be to kill him. We both know that isn’t true. And Alice is Harry’s godmother. He should have gone to her after that night. Dumbledore told me he was going to take Harry to her after a quick check up. If he had done so, they might have remained in hiding longer. Dumbledore might have set up stronger wards for them. They might be…” he trailed off, unable to finish.

Augusta poured herself a cup of tea, letting silence take hold. She poured in her milk and sugar, sipping silently for a few minutes. “They might have,” she admitted softly.

“Will you help me? Please?” he asked.

“I will. I do wish to know what was going on in Dumbledore’s had. I want to know why Frank had to go into hiding. Why things turned out the way they did.”

“I want to know what he is trying to accomplish,” added Sirius. “It is greater than the war,” he admitted. “I have learned a lot over the last year. I was so young, foolish, naïve.”

“You are still young,” Augusta responded.

“Perhaps. But less so than I was. But now I know the war was not about blood purity. I know Dumbledore has slowly been destroying wizarding traditions. And I want to know why,” he finished, eyes burning.

“Dumbledore was not yet headmaster when I attended Hogwarts,” Augusta began. “But Dippet was growing increasingly old and senile, so he did most of the work. And every year, I watched as the traditional Samhain festival was cancelled, as Yule break was renamed Christmas break, as Alchemy and Pureblood Customs classes were cancelled. We all watched as Dumbledore dismantled centuries of tradition. But none of us did anything about it. He was the great Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Grindewald. He was going to lead us into a new era of prosperity and enlightenment. But look where that has brought us.”

“Certainly not to prosperity and enlightenment.”

“No, certainly not. Our economy has grown stagnant, families are dying out, each class at Hogwarts is smaller and smaller. Did you know my class had over a hundred students?”

“Blimey,” Sirius responded. “We had around sixty I think. How did that happen? In a generation?”

“I am unsure. That, I think, is for you to figure out. I will help you,” she promised, “I will ask the Wizengamont to open an investigation into his actions. Will it succeed?”

“I believe so,” Sirius answered. “Between those who want to know in hopes of helping Harry and those who want to hurt Dumbledore, it should.”

“And where do you fall?”

“I want nothing more than the best for Harry,” he answered truthfully. “But I also want to watch Dumbledore burn.”

Augusta nodded, and rose. Sirius followed as she led him to the nursery where Neville and Harry were playing.

“They seem to be getting along,” Augusta remarked.

“Cy is a good kid,” Sirius agreed. “I was thinking of arranging a tutor for him starting in the New Year. Hopefully with a few other children his age. Would you like Neville to join?”

“Perhaps, I shall think about it.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “Cy, come along now. It’s time to head home.”

 

Augusta succeeded in her call for an investigation of Dumbledore’s actions, and so, as October drew to a close the investigation began. It was slow going, as all bureaucracy is, but the initial announcement captured the attention of the public. “Investigation into Dumbledore’s Actions: His Role in the Disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived,” one headline proclaimed. Another call out, “Dumbledore: Noble Wizard or Scheming Old Man?” The public loved a good scandal, and the disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived was just that.

Meanwhile, the Black family continued plotting, calling up allies and friends. They shared their knowledge of who the Dark Lord was. They reminded previous supporters who died, and more importantly, by whose hand. As Arcturus rallied his generation to chastise their children, Sirius worked with his, forcing them to see the truth. Hundreds of wizards supported Voldemort, but without the wizarding elite, he would have failed. Without the gold and resources of the Averys, Notts, Malfoys, Blacks, and the like, he could not have funded the war.

“We are the Lords and Ladies of our world,” Sirius reminded them. “The business owners, lawyers, and lawmakers. We do not resort to violence to solve our problems. We do not forsake honor and centuries of tradition for the words of a madman- Dark or Light Lord. We are the leaders of the wizarding world and it is our responsibility, our privilege, to lead them. None of us were innocent in this war,” he added looking around at the group. “Those of us who supported the Dark Lord- with money or wands- are guilty of killing the very blood, the very basis of our society. Those of us who stood to the side and stayed neutral- claiming they wanted to protect their families- are guilty of inaction, of letting the problem get out of hand. And those of us who fought against the Dark Lord are guilty- no matter who you are- of not listening to those who felt marginalized, of pushing the sides apart until everyone had to choose. I am guilty. We all are guilty.”

“And what would you have us do now?” Andrew Bulstrode asked.

“Now we fix it,” replied Sirius with a smirk. “Now we fix it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On why Dumbledore took so long to notice Harry is gone: He never seems to check up on Harry, so I imagine he just monitors the blood wards. Since they only seem to be renewed every year and Petunia had her memory wiped so she couldn't report him missing, I doubt Dumbledore would notice.
> 
> As for my view on Hogwarts, I am making it sort of the wizarding equivalent to Eton in this story. The people who go there are the tops of the society (Lords, rich businessmen, top ministry workers, ect - note even Anthony Goldstein was "down for Eton") and a few scholarship students. (Lily, Severus, Hermione all were exceptionally bright). As for the few people such as the Weasleys who seem to be neither, well the Weasleys are one of the sacred twenty eight. Even if they aren't rich any more, it would be a status thing, and Dumbledore would be willing to provide scholarships.


	9. Socialization

**1 st Nov, 1984**

The end of October brought the first Samhain since Sirius had been released. He spent the evening in Kielder Forest, amongst the trees, letting himself embrace the magic around him. It was solemn affair, a chance to mourn and remember the dead. He spoke to James and Lily, asking them to forgive him for abandoning Harry. He asked them if he was doing the right thing, raising Harry as a Black, hiding his true identity from the public. He called out to Regulus, and apologized for abandoning him to Walburga, for leaving him alone in that terrible house. He apologized for cutting him off as soon as he was free, disregarding what would happen to Regulus. And asked if it was okay he was claiming Harry to be his kid.

And in the forest, Sirius could swear he could hear them respond to him. He could feel their presence around him and he was unburdened. He would never forget the loss of his brother- both blood and choosen- or Lily. He could never forget the horrors of the war and everyone who was gone. But perhaps he could move on, and live his life. As no doubt, James would want him to.

 

“I had forgotten how awful morning sickness is,” Andromeda complained as she joined Sirius in the garden, watching Harry fly.

“You are the one who got themselves pregnant. On the night of the Harvest Festival no less,” he retorted.

She slapped him lightly on the back of the head. “The Harvest Festival is a lovely time to get pregnant. May babies are such a lovely gift. If my child is born on Walpurgis night I would be very happy, it is a strong magical night.”

“The witches night, strong indeed,” Sirius agreed, gasping as Harry performed a particularly frightful dive on his toy broom.

“Have you thought about children?”

“I have one,” he replied, pointing up at the demon on a broom.

“I mean, have you thought about marriage? Of sharing your life with someone?” Sirius shrugged. “Shrugging is unbecoming,” she chided.

“I have thought about it,” he admitted, “even more so since Samhain. I talked to Lily and James. I’d like to think they heard me.”

“I’m sure they did. And I am sure they would want you to live your life.”

“I just… I just don’t quite know how to go about it.”

“Is Sirius Black, ladies’ man of Hogwarts saying he doesn’t know how to date?”

Sirius blushed, “Sort of? I mean, at school girls were always looking for a date. Now, they, well…”

“Are less full of teenage hormones and more discerning?”

“Yes, that.”

“You start by meeting people. I believe Lord Abbott is planning on hosting a ball next month. He and Lord Burke determined it was high time we began throwing parties again. Perhaps simply because Lady Abbott is involved in fashion. There is nothing like balls to spur the buying of fancy dress robes.”

“Indeed there is not. It has been a long time since there was a proper ball.”

“Before the war,” Andi agreed. “It is hardly fitting if one half of your guests start attacking the other half.”

Sirius barked in laughter. “Could you imagine, Lucius trying to decide whether fighting was worth messing up his perfect hair?”

“Merlin, no,” snorted Andi. “He would stand there, anxiously looking around to see if anyone noticed he didn’t want to participate.”

“Or Alyssa Brown? She is a fabulous duelist, but would never dare ruin a dress.”

“Oh gosh, no. Now I must go to this ball! Oh dear,” she moaned.

“What?”

“I have to teach Ted to dance!”

Sirius burst into laughter again, letting the joy wash over him. Teaching Ted to dance… that was a thought.

 

The ball was magnificent. Lord Abbott, the aging head of House Abbott had held no stops. Fairy lights twinkled all around the ballroom, while blue candles floated along the walls. In the center of the room was a grand ice sculpture, depicting Merlin, wand outstretched. At the back end was a table, full of magnificent food and drink, including a truly impressive spread of Ogdens.

All around the ballroom, witches and wizards were dancing, dressed in extravagant robes varying from traditional, such as Sirius’, to the newest creations seen in the windows of Twilfitt and Tattings. As Sirius watched everyone enter through the grand entrance, he was surprised how happy the ball made him. He had never enjoyed them as a child, but now, well they made him simply glad the world was a place where balls could happen.

“You look lovely this evening,” he greeted Amanda Greengrass as she glided over to him. And lovely she did in a periwinkle dress that combined the tighter fitting lines of muggle clothes with the conservative nature of witches’ robes.

“Thank you. And you look good yourself, navy suits you.”

Sirius smiled, “thank you. How are you enjoying the ball?”

“Oh, it’s lovely. Daniel is a marvelous dancer, but it is difficult to get him to do so. But a ball, well then I get him to dance all night. How about you?”

“It’s been enjoyable. The atmosphere is lovely.”

“Have you danced with anyone yet? A beautiful woman perhaps?”

Sirius groaned, “Andromeda put you up to this, didn’t she?”

“No, Narcissa actually. But come, I saw one of the beaters from the Holyhead Harpies here. I think she is only a few years older than you, and you can talk quidditch,” Amanda announced, directing Sirius across the room to a small group of witches in their mid to late twenties. “Hello ladies, this is my friend Sirius. Sirius, meet the highly talented ladies from the Holyhead Harpies,” she said sweetly, immediately departing and leaving Sirius alone with the team.

 

The New Year came, and with it Harry’s first tutoring lessons. “Do they really need etiquette lessons?” Sirius asked, looking over the proposed tutoring subjects. “They are only four.”

“And five. And yes, they need etiquette lessons,” Narcissa replied. “I believe you started lessons at age three, did you not?”

“And I thought we agreed Walburga provides us with prime examples on how not to raise a child.”

“None the less, the earlier the boys start, the easier it will be for them to learn. In stead of correcting bad habits, they will simply have to form good ones.”

“Fine, etiquette for four year olds it is. Penmanship?”

“More like learning to write letters at their age, but yes, penmanship is important,” she added staring at Sirius.

“Hey! I can write neatly when I need to. I just don’t see the need most of the time.”

“Men,” Narcissa muttered under her breath. “Any other objections?”

“No, the rest seems fine. But no homework. Not until Cy is a least six.”

“No homework, agreed. They are still children. Very well, do you know how many children there will be?”

“I believe Cy, Draco, Ernie, Daphne, and Morag for now. Augusta has warmed up to me and agreed to help us in the Dumbledore case, but I think it will be a long time before she lets Neville enter a Black property.”

“Five is a good number at their age. Plenty to socialize with, but few enough they will receive individual attention.”

“Good, then that’s done with. Too much responsibility in one go, I’m feeling a bit like a proper adult or something,” Sirius complained.

“You are a proper adult. You have a child after all.”

“Right, how did that happen again?”

“If I’m not mistaken, you adopted him,” Narcissa laughed. “Now tell me about the woman you spent half the Abbott Ball dancing with.”


	10. Investigating Dumbledore

**Jan 15 th, 1985**

The Wizengamont had finally scheduled their inquest into Dumbledore’s actions, and Sirius was tense. Having been called to testify, he was now pacing back in forth across one of the witness rooms outside the courtroom. While the inquest was not a formal trial, the DMLE was following trial protocol, keeping all witnesses separate until the start of the inquest. Which meant all there was for him to do was pace. Back and forth, back and forth. He straightened his robes, sighing out loud.

“Merlin damn it,” he muttered, checking the time. “It’s been three hours already.”

“Well, the wait is up,” announce Amelia Bones, entering the waiting room. “If you would come with me, Mr. Black?”

Sirius nodded, following Amelia out of the room. With her there, the atmosphere was even tenser. She had been a co-worker of his, before Azkaban, and they hadn’t really spoken besides the obligatory greeting whenever they met at a formal event. But he shoved those thoughts down and followed her down the hallway. The walk felt endless, and Sirius felt his nerves flutter. Which was ridiculous. He was a witness, not the accused party. But, his testimony involved the night. That night. The night that led to Azkaban. So it was, sort of, a testimony to his innocence.

“Take a seat in the witness stand,” a dark haired man in stiff black robes commanded, pointing to a chair. “Do you swear on your magic to tell the truth?”

“Yes,” Sirius agreed. The promise was odd. One promised to swear the truth on their magic, but it was not a binding oath, just a plain old promise. And even telling the truth, one could manipulate the facts. Interesting, for sure.

“Lord Selwyn,” the man continued, “you have the floor.”

Lord Selwyn, and elderly man surely past a hundred years in age nodded and stepped forward. “Is your name Sirius Orion Black?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you the godfather of Harry James Potter?”

“Yes,” Sirius replied. For it was true, even if now he was also the adopted father and Harry was Procyon.

“Did Albus Dumbledore ever tell you or hint at where he was planning on bringing Harry Potter after the events of October 31st, 1981?”

“Yes, through a third party.”

“And who was that third party?”

“Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys at Hogwarts, and employee of Dumbledore.”

“What did Rubeus Hagrid say to you to indicated Dumbledore’s plans?”

“He told me he was talking Harry to Dumbledore so that Dumbledore could have a healer examine the boy, then bring him to his godmother’s.”

“And his godmother is?”

“Alice Longbottom.”

Lord Selwyn paused as the crowd whispered. Augusta Longbottom had already testified as to her daughter-in-law’s relationship to Harry, but if Dumbledore had lied about where he was taking Harry… Well that was a whole different crime beyond simply not bringing him to his godmother’s. “And when did this conversation occur?”

“On October 31st, in the ruins of James and Lily’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow.”

The crowd murmured again, imagining the two men standing in the horrific ruins of the cottage. “What were you doing at the cottage on that night?” Lord Selwyn asked.

“I was out flying, heading to a safe house when all of the sudden I remembered where James and Lily live. They were under a fidelius, so the only way I could suddenly gain that knowledge was if they died.”

“What if the secret keeper had died?” Lord Selwyn asked.

Sirius shook his head. “If a secret keeper dies, everyone who knows the secret becomes the keeper. We were unsure if James or Lily could be the keeper as they were also the secret, so they used a third party. However, Dumbledore and Alice Longbottom also knew the secret.”

“So they would have become secret keepers, ensuring the fidelius survived.”

“Correct.”

“Who was the secret keeper?” Selwyn asked, a slight smirk on his face.

“Objection,” called a Lord. “This inquest is into the actions of Dumbledore. The secret keeper is irrelevant.”

“It is important if Dumbledore was aware of whom the keeper was. Mr. Black was thrown in prison in part because of this, and he is the boy’s godfather. If Dumbledore knew some of our assumptions were incorrect…”

“Thank you Lord Ogden,” Selwyn said. “Who was the secret keeper?”

“Peter Pettigrew.”

“You said Dumbledore was aware of the secret. He must have then known who the keeper was?”

“No. Peter wrote the secret on a few pieces of parchment so James and Lily could share it without him needing to be there. He was supposed to go into hiding after all. Dumbledore would have received a piece of paper. It is possible he could have recognized the handwriting though.”

“So, to summarize, you raced to the house upon realizing James and Lily were dead. Met with Rubeus Hagrid who said he was taking Harry to his godmother via Hagrid, and then killed Peter Pettigrew? Why did you let Rubeus Hagrid take Harry? You are his godfather.”

“I was his godfather, but Lily insisted that Harry live with Alice before me if something ever happened to her and James. I was only twenty-one, single, and very much a partier,” Sirius admitted. “Alice was married, slightly older, and already had a child Harry’s age. Lily thought she would make a better mother, and me a fun uncle. I was also concerned. I was the only one outside of James and Lily who knew Peter was the secret keeper. I thought he had been tortured for the secret, possibly killed.”

“So you left, thinking Harry was to be placed according to James and Lily’s wishes to find out what happened to your other friend?”

“Yes. I had already lost two of my best friends that night. The thought of losing another…” he trailed off.

Lord Selwyn nodded, the room once again abuzz with murmurs. “That is all, Mr. Black.”

Sirius nodded his head and stood, following an auror out of the room. The inquest was a closed affair, and his grandfather was still Lord.

 

“So what happened?” Sirius asked the moment Arcturus returned to the Manor.

“Patience boy. Procyon, why don’t you head to the nursery? Lolly will bring you a snack.”

“Sorry,” Sirius muttered, waiting for his son to leave before asking, “So? What did they conclude?”

“The Wizengamont concluded that Dumbledore was indeed in error, but there is not enough evidence to bring it to trial.”

“Not enough evidence?” Sirius asked in rage, “He abandoned Harry!”

“Calm yourself. And no, from a legal standpoint there is not enough evidence. He legally, if distastefully, sealed the Potter will. He lied to Hagrid, and indirectly you, about where he was bringing Harry. But again, lying, while distasteful, is not illegal. He circumvented the Wizarding Orphan Office, but it was the end of the war and things were chaotic. They very may well have ended up placing Harry in Petunia’s care, as by the time they would have place him, Alice and Frank had would have been attacked. He claims he filled out paperwork regarding Harry’s placement, but it was lost. Again, while it is highly unlikely, it may have happened. There is no tangible proof one way or another. Much paperwork was misplaced in the chaos. And lastly, while we know he place Harry in an abusive household, your memory charm was done well enough that the Wizengamont does not know that. Dumbledore may not have known it.”

“But surely even the Wizengamont can put that much evidence together, even none of it is individually damning to realize he did wrong!” yelled Sirius.

“They are capable of drawing that conclusion. And it is precisely what they did. While they cannot legally try him, they did find his actions ‘unbecoming of the Chief Warlock’ and dismissed him from his post. We achieved a great victory today. Dumbledore has lost one of his positions of power. And, remember, Harry is safe. We do not want people looking too closely at us or where he might be.”

Sirius took a deep breath, calming himself and sinking into a chair. “I suppose you are right. I just… I hate the man. I put my trust into him, and look what he did. To Harry, to me. And sometimes, I think back to my days at Hogwarts and wonder if he managed to make the war worse than anyone else besides Riddle could.”

“How so?”

“He let house rivalries cross the line between teenage house spirit to dangerous. The corridors were often war zones, with Slytherins attacking muggleborns with deadly spells, and others- mostly Gryffindors- fighting back. He gave far too many second chances to those who did not deserve it and failed to discipline those who needed. On both sides,” Sirius admitted. “I was hardly innocent.”

“A school should never be a warzone,” Arcturus agreed. “When I attended, we had house rivalries, but they were more civil. One could still be friends across houses, date across them and such. Your Great Aunt Dorea and her husband were one such case.”

“A Slytherin and a Gryffindor, never could have happened while I was at school.”

“So many of his marked were young, sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen. They hardly had a chance,” Arcturus sighed.

“Like Regulus,” Sirius whispered. “Like Regulus.”

 

The aftermath of the inquest was spectacular. The Daily Prophet ran stories for days, ranging from mostly accurate to absolutely sensationalist, telling the story of Dumbledore and the Boy-Who-Lived. The Wizengamont argued for days behind closed doors, trying to appoint a new Chief Warlock. Political factions shifted, as it was no longer supporters of Dumbledore versus supported of the Dark Lord.  And throughout, the Black family schemed. Sirius talked to the heirs, forming support of a traditionalist party while Arcturus took on the Lords of the Wizengamont. Narcissa, and Andromeda (returned to high society) ran teas with the ladies, building support for reforms. A return to the traditional holidays they called for. Classes on wizarding traditions for muggleborns and half-bloods raised in the muggle world. A re-evaluation of banned magics and magic classifications. Tax incentives for having more children (the Blacks had run the numbers. As much as they hated to admit it, the wizarding world was dying. They need more children). Not everyone agreed with every issue raised, every proposition brought forward, but enough Lords agreed on enough issue. A traditionalist party was formed. Sure, there was still Dumbledore’s party. There was still the party of the truly dark wizards. But the traditionalists had the majority. So Lord Greengrass, Daniel’s father, was appointed as Chief Warlock. (No Black wants to be Chief Warlock. Minister sure, but Chief Warlock? Too many restrictions and paperwork, better to rule from behind.)


	11. An Egagement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but there wasn't that much I had to write about it at this point. Sorry.

**March 19 th, 1985**

_Black Heir, Engaged? Sirius Black and Foreign Born Viviane Labelle Sighted Together at Quidditch Qualifying Match_

_Sirius Black, Heir to the Black Family, was sighted Tuesday at the Scotland versus Sweden Quidditch World Cup Qualifying Match holding hands with French Witch, Viviane Labelle. Labelle, daughter of Henri Labelle and Margaret Fawley, was born in ’58 in Paris and graduated Beauxbtons Academy of Magic in ’76. The two reportedly met at the Abbott Ball in March and immediately hit it off. Just yesterday, Labelle was seen in Diagon Alley with a large engagement ring on her hand, leading many to believe she and Black are indeed engaged._

_Also in attendance at the game was Procyon Black, son of Regulus Black, the younger brother of Sirius who disappeared back in ’79. Procyon was adopted by Sirius shortly after his release from Azkaban in November of ’83…_

“I told you to send in an official engagement announcement last week,” Arcturus sighed, putting down the paper. “Now it will simply look as if you are reacting to the article.”

“I hate the press,” muttered Sirius, pouring himself some tea. “All I wanted to do was take my son to a professional quidditch game. Not make the front page of the Prophet.”

“Not to mention the lovely spread in Witch Weekly,” Melania added. “I believe there was an entire paragraph on the cut of your robes.”

“Oh Merlin,” moaned Sirius.

Melania laughed softly. “I believe they also called Procyon adorable in his Scotland robes. They seemed quite impressed with you raising him as a single man.”

“Can I ever enjoy peace?” Sirius moaned.

“You are a Black,” replied Arcturus, “and as such, you will always be under the spotlight. Be glad it is positive press. Now, finish writing the engagement announcements and send them out.”

“Yes grandfather.”

 

“Do you love her?” Narcissa asked as she and Sirius sat in the back garden, watching Harry and Draco fly.

“I am quite fond of her, and think I could grow to love her.”

“But you do not love her now.”

“No, I suppose not. But the match is a good one politically and economically. Besides, since when do Blacks marry for love?”

“Andromeda did,” Narcissa pointed out.

“And she was disowned until recently. Besides, your marriage turned out well.”

“Yes, it has turned out better than I hoped. Lucius and I have grown to love each other, and we both love Draco more than anything. But we do not share a bed at night.”

“Thanks for the details, Cissy,” he muttered. Softly he added, “I am not sure I can share a bed.”

“You still do not sleep well?”

“I still wake often at night. I cannot seem to forget the feelings of never ending cold, despair, and loneliness. Sometimes I dream of what they did to me,” he admitted. “I can be… dangerous at night.”

Narcissa wrapped an arm around her cousin’s shoulder. “I am sorry Sirius, for what happened to you. Is it getting better?”

He nodded. “Time does seem to help. And Grandmother Melania has been very kind. Sometimes she sits with me, late at night, and just listens. At least I no longer curse people when they try to wake me.”

“Have you told Viviane?”

Sirius shrugged non-committedly, ducking Narcissa’s hand as she tried to hit him on the back of the head. “Some, not all. She is, of course, aware of my imprisonment and treatment there. But she has not… seen anything,” he admitted to her.

“Talk to her. She seems a lovely woman and if you are going to spend the rest of your life with her, you need to share.”

“Of course,” Sirius agreed, turning back to the boys. They were flying around the garden, playing with the new training quaffle, hops, and guard Sirius had purchased them. They were quite good, even at age four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Sirius would more easily agree to a political marriage at this point for several reasons. First, his grandfather would be pushing him for an heir. Harry might have been adopted into the family, but is not a Black by birth. Second, he is emotionally "broken" after Azkaban and is unsure he can fall in love. Lastly, he has rejoined the family and they are supporting him, even adopting some political beliefs because of him. He would feel slightly indebted to them, and see agreeing to a match as a way to pay that back.


	12. A Lesson at Hogwarts

**May 1 st, 1985**

Nymphadora Tonks (Dora, unless you want her to hex you) practically skipped to class, full of excitement. That morning at breakfast she had received an owl from her dad. She was a big sister! To one tiny little brother, Asterion Tonks (although really mum, why do you have to give your children such ridiculous name?). He had been born the night before, during Walpurgis Night. Dad had explained that Walpurgis Night was apparently a magical night, and Asterion being born on it was a good omen.

Sliding into her seat in transfiguration, Dora couldn’t help but think about her new brother. Was he a metamorphagus like her? Would he be a quidditch fan? What house would he be sorted in? Hufflepuff, like her? She was so busy thinking of questions she couldn’t wait to hear the answer of that she completely missed Professor McGonagall’s assignment.

“Ms. Tonks,” Professor McGonagall asked from the front of the room, “Were you paying any attention at all?”

“No?” Dora admitted, her voice rising in fear.

“And what, may I ask, did you think was more important than my lesson?” The professor asked, her lips thinning.

“I was thinking about my new baby brother,” she admitted, knowing that telling the truth was always better with Professor McGonagall. “He was born last night.”

Minerva’s face softened slightly. “Walpurgis Night, a good night to be born on,” she agreed. Inwardly, she laughed slightly. A baby born on Walpurgis Night was, more often than not, a Harvest Festival child. And the Blacks had hosted a festival for the first time since the war last summer. She glanced at her class, noticing everyone had put down tea cups.

“Professor?” asked a girl, her hand raised tentatively.

“Yes Ms. Smith?”

“What is Walpurgis Night?”

Minerva looked around the classroom. It was a Hufflepuff class, and as such there were a fair amount of muggleborns and students from non-traditional families. All of whom looked confused. She sighed, figuring she might as well answer the question. “Walpurgis Night is a magical night and one of the old wizarding holidays. It means “Witches Night,” and is the night before Beltane which marks the halfway point between the spring equinox and summer solstice. It is the beginning of summer and a celebration of birth and renewal.”

“There are wizarding holidays?” another boy asked.

“There are, Mr. Miller. Traditional wizarding families do not celebrate Christmas, Easter or Halloween.”

“Then why do we celebrate them at Hogwarts?” one of the half-blood children asked.

“That is a complicated question,” Minerva answered sighing. Or, at least it was a complicated question to answer for a bunch of eleven and twelve year olds. “Are you all interested in learning about wizarding holidays?” The entire class nodded, even those from families who celebrate them. “Very well. I will work on bringing in a guest speaker. But now you all must return to your transfigurations. Even you, Ms. Tonks.” The class slowly returned to work and Minerva resolved to contact Augusta. The Longbottom woman had asked about such a speaker earlier in the year.

 

It took a few weeks, but Minerva managed to organize a speaker to come to Hogwarts and talk about wizarding holidays. The event would be optional, but already most of the muggleborns and non-traditional half-bloods had signed up to attend. While Minerva knew Dumbledore was not a traditionalist, she had been surprised how difficult it was for her to secure permission from him to hold the event. “I do not condone blood supremacy in my school,” he had said when she first brought up the idea. Then it was, “There is not time before OWLs and NEWTs to hold such a frivolous event.” Time after time, Dumbledore had given her (inaccurate) reasons why she should not hold the event. But eventually she had used her powers as Deputy Headmistress to go around him. Needless to say, she had been surprised by Dumbledore’s resistance. After all, she came from a traditional family.

But the event was finally happening, today in the Great Hall. She and Augusta had decided to invite Amanda Greengrass to speak, as she was known to be both neutral and good with children.

“Hello everyone,” Amanda greeted, looking out at the crowd of students. It was a surprisingly large group, including most of the school. “My name is Amanda Greengrass, and I have been invited to talk to you all about the traditional wizarding holidays.”

Her talk began with a brief overview of the religious history of the United Kingdom, explaining how the entire island was pagan until the arrival of the Romans, and then Christianity. She transitioned into the affects of the rise of Christianity, mentioning the beginnings of the witch burnings and outlawing of pagan rituals. The students listened quietly, a few even taking notes. Binns, after all, covered nothing but Goblin rebellions. And in an overly boring monotone at that.

Once she had covered everything up the Statute of Secrecy, she paused. “Does anyone know why the statute was introduced?” she asked.

An older student raised his hand, and she motioned for him to answer. “Because the increase in witch burnings was leading to the death of an increasing number of witches and wizards, especially since many were immediately separated from their wands, making them defenseless.”

“Right,” Amanda agreed. “And what were some of the results of the statute?”

Another older student raised her hand. “The statute led to the formation of hidden magical communities and the Ministry of Magic.”

“That is true, but think cultural.”

“It led to greater differentiation and separation of muggleborns and purebloods,” a fifth year boy answered hesitantly.

“Correct. The statute made it illegal to reveal magic to muggles or muggleborns before they received their Hogwarts letters at eleven. It isolated wizarding society from muggle society, so our manners, dress, and customs became increasingly foreign to muggleborns. Within a hundred and fifty years of the statute, the muggle world would have been unrecognizable to most wizards and vice versa. Families, such as the Malfoys and Blacks, who previously enjoyed socializing with the muggle royalty and aristocracy could no longer understand muggle society. Phineas Black banned muggle ballpoint pens while headmaster for being “too damn confusing.”” She paused, as several students laughed at the idea of pens being more confusing than quills.

“But the statute also impacted religion. You see, once the statute was enacted, muggleborn students were essentially from a foreign culture. They came to Hogwarts having been raised in Christian households, reading the bible, and attending church. And, at eleven, they could share their beliefs, and hold strong to them. They had no memories or family history with the witch burnings and fear surrounding Christianity, so they did not adopt traditional wizarding holidays and spread their own beliefs. By the beginning of the twentieth century, even some of the pureblood families had at least stopped celebrating the old holidays, if not started celebrating Christian ones.”

“The war with Grindewald furthered the problem, as the end of the war brought a fight for muggleborn rights. Many witches and wizards began associating traditional beliefs and holidays with pureblood supremacy. It was an easy assumption, as many of the most prejudice families were the most traditional. So traditional holidays were no longer observed by the ministry, and festivals stopped happening in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. By the time most of you were born, the Wizarding War was well underway. Any remaining festivals stopped, as people feared they would be attacked.”

“Why did they fear they would be attacked?” a fourth year Ravenclaw asked. “You said the people celebrating the holidays were mostly pureblood families at that point. Why would you-know-who attack them?”

“Good question. I won’t go into details, but let me say this. Tom Riddle, better known as Voldemort, was not a pureblood. And he did not truly support pureblood supremacy. He was a violent madman, determined to destroy the wizarding world and rule over it. He did not approve of traditional wizarding customs.” She paused as the crowd began to argue. “Think about who died in the war,” she said. “Yes, thousands of muggleborns and half-bloods were killed, tragically so, but so were many of the oldest pureblood families. On both sides of the war. But enough about that. I am here to talk about traditional wizarding holidays. Suffice to say, the result of the war was that only a few families celebrated the holidays, and only in private.”

Amanda continued talking as the room quieted down, explaining the significance of Samhaim, Yule, Walpurgis Night, Beltane, the Harvest Festival, and all the other minor dates. “If anyone is interested in witnessing the holidays first hand,” she concluded, “I believe there are plans in the works to hold a Harvest Festival in Diagon Alley on August 1st. So, if you are interested, tell your parents and friends, and get them interested as well. Thank you.”

 

Immediately after the event, Minerva had been concerned. Amanda Greengrass had announced her belief that the Wizarding War had not been about blood supremacy (and that Tom Riddle was responsible! He had been a prefect while she was in school!) Minerva feared that students who supported pureblood supremacy would use that as an excuse to be more vocal. But, the opposite seemed to be true. For several of the Ravenclaw upper years had gone to the library and looked up the lists of who died. And then shared them. The realization that the war had done more damage to the wizarding world than the muggleborns and so called blood-traitors had been eye opening to many. Additionally, as the muggleborns began asking questions about wizarding traditions in hopes of learning more, many of the old purebloods stepped forward to explain more (and an Avery had even invited a half-blood to a Summer Solstice celebration in his town!). All of this lead Minerva to think, to re-evaluate how she dealt with her students. And possibly, to admit she had been going about it wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really tricky to write, and I am not sure I did a good job with Amanda's lesson. Let me know if you have any suggestions.


	13. Marriage

**June 21 st, 1985**

The sun peaked over the tops of the trees in Kielder Forest, illuminating the circular clearing with bright yellow rays. At the center of the circle stood Sirius and his wife-to-be, Viviane Labelle. Both were dressed in simple white linen tunics and stood barefoot next to each other. Around them sat their families, dressed in far more elegant robes, chatting softly as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

As the sun reached it zenith, bathing the clearing in bright light, an elderly wizard also dressed in a simple tunic stepped forward, clearing his throat. The clearing fell silent as everyone looked at the three standing in the center.

“We stand here under the midday sun of the summer solstice to bind together two young members of our families, Sirius Black and Viviane Labelle. Before we begin, are there any objections to this binding?” The crowd was silent, and the old wizard nodded. “Very well,” he said, waving his wand in a complicated pattern. “Are you, Sirius Black, here of your own free will and volition?”

“I am,” Sirius stated, feeling a wave of magic wash over him.

“Are you, Viviane Labelle here of your own free will and volition?”

“I am,” Viviane agreed, and the old wizard nodded once more.

“Then with magic as our witness, please state your vows.”

“I, Sirius Black, in the name of the magic that resides within us all, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take Viviane Labelle in my hand, my heart, and my magic, to be my wife. To desire her and be desired by her, to possess her, and be possessed by her, without sin or shame. I promise to love her wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and death. I shall respect her as I respect myself.”

“I, Viviane Labelle, in the name of the magic that resides within us all, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take Sirius Black in my hand, my heart, and my magic, to be my husband. To desire him and be desired by him, to possess him, and be possessed by him, without sin or shame. I promise to love him wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and death. I shall respect him as I respect myself.”

“I call upon magic to bond these two souls under the light of the midday sun,” called the old wizard, stepping back as Sirius and Viviane reached out and held hands.

The pair gasped as they felt their magic swirl, floating around the both of them and mixing together for a few minutes. Finally, it settled down, and they could feel their own magic, mixed with a tiny bit of the other’s, flow back into them.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” concluded the wizard. He turned to the family announcing, “may I present to you, Sirius and Viviane Black.”

Sirius and Viviane kissed lightly in the middle of the clearing, letting the world fall away as they felt one another. After a few moments, Arcturus stepped forward, clearing his throat and catching the attention of the new couple.

“You should apparate back to the house and change for the celebration,” he said. “The rest of the guests will be arriving in less than an hour, and I presume you would prefer to be fully dressed,” he added dryly, glancing significantly at their simple tunics and lack of shoes.

“Of course,” agreed Sirius. “Will you take Procyon back with you to the manor and ensure he has some lunch?”

Arcturus nodded and turned as the Sirius grabbed his wife’s hand and apparated them into the Manor.

 

Safely back at the manor, the pair retreated to separate rooms to change for the party. Waiting for him on his bed, Sirius found an extravagant tunic of forest green with delicate gold embroidery. Slipping off his wedding robe, he donned the tunic. As he donned a pair of green dragon hide boots, Mipsy popped into his room.

“Mipsy is here to plait Young Master Sirius’ hair,” she announced. “Master Arcturus does not trust Young Master Sirius to do it right.”

Sirius laughed, sliding into a seat in front of the mirror. “Very well, Mipsy. Just the top, then pull it back into a bun, leaving the bottom down.”

“Of course Young Master Sirius,” Mipsy agreed, snapping her fingers and calling up her magic.

Once Mipsy was satisfied he looked perfect, he pulled on the black outer robe waiting for him. Across the back, the Black family crest was stitched in gold. Grabbing his cane, he exited his room to find Viviane entering the hall as well.

“You look beautiful,” he remarked, taking a step towards his wife. She wore a matching outer clock, signifying her new status a daughter of the house of Black.

“Thank you,” she smiled, taking his arm. “I see Arcturus sent Mipsy as threatened to do your hair. Despite growing it out, you have yet to master the art of braiding,” she remarked with a smile.

“It is harder than it looks,” he defended as they entered the ballroom.

 

While the actual wedding ceremony had been private, only for close family, the celebration following included almost every witch or wizard of note. Labeled the society event of the year, the Black wedding celebration was slated to last until sunset and to not attend was to be labelled a nobody.

“Quite a crowd,” Sirius whispered as he scanned the room.

“No bigger than expected,” Viviane replied. “Your grandfather is across the room with Procyon. Shall we join them?”

“Please,” Sirius agreed.

 

The first hour and a half of the party consisted of making rounds greeting everyone of note and nibbling on a small lunch. It was, in Sirius’ opinion, tedious and boring, but unfortunately required of him. Once rounds were made, however, a string quartet set up at one end of the ballroom, and began playing. The first song, a lovely waltz, began and Sirius turned to his wife.

“May I have a dance with you?” he asked, leaning his cane against the wall and holding out his hand.

“It would be a pleasure Mr. Black,” she agreed, letting him guide her into the center of the ballroom.

The pair waltzed around the floor, focusing solely on each other as the rest of the room fell out of focus.

“I am glad you are my wife, Mrs. Black,” Sirius admitted to Viviane as they danced.

“And I am glad you are my husband. It is not often one has the opportunity to marry someone they consider a close friend in a political match.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “Though I hope we will be more than close friends.”

“As do I,” she admitted as the waltz drew to a close.

The pair stopped dancing as Sirius massaged his right thigh. “I am sorry. I am not the dancer I used to be,” he admitted as he grabbed his cane from where it leant against the wall.

“Then it is a good thing I did not marry you for your dancing skills,” Viviane responded, kissing him gently on his cheek. “Come along, I believe your son wished to dance with me.”

Sirius smiled as Viviane met up with Harry, guiding him across the dance floor in a playful tango. She was a good match, and truly enjoyed spending time with the nearly five-year-old wizard. Sirius had hope for their future, for sure.

 

By the time the sun set, Harry had already been put to bed and many of the guests had left. Taking is wife’s hand, Sirius made his way to the receiving room of the manor, where Arcturus stood waiting.

“Your portkey leaves in just under five minutes,” Arcturus said, handing over a red ribbon. “It will take you to the entry way of the chateau in France. Mipsy has already brought your luggage over.”

“Thank you. And you will look over Procyon for me?” Sirius asked, accepting the ribbon.

“Of course. He will continue with his tutoring lessons during the week and spend the weekends with Narcissa and Andromeda. Now enjoy your honeymoon,” he smiled, bringing in Viviane and then Sirius for a hug. Whispering in Sirius’ ear, he added, “and I expect a new grandchild within the year, so get busy.”

Sirius stepped back blushing bright red as Arcturus turned and departed the room. As Viviane joined him in holding the ribbon, he could not help but blush even deeper until the portkey activated, swirling them away.

It was late at night at the Chateau, so the pair headed straight for the master bedroom to ready themselves for bed. Sirius carefully removed his outer robe, draping it across the back of a chair as his wife undressed. She was truly beautiful, even more so as she stood naked in the moonlight that streamed in from the window.

“Are you joining me?” she asked, seeing he was still wearing his under robe.

Sirius nodded, but paused as he caught sight of the thin scars around his wrist that practically glowed in the moonlight. While she had, on occasion, glimpsed his wrists before, he was careful to never let people see the rest of his scars. Only Arcuturus, Melania, and Amanda as his healer had seen them in their entirety. What would Viviane think of them? Of the ugly lines marring his boby? Viviane, noticing his hesitance, stepped forward. Slowly she reached out and cradled his wrists in her delicate hands.

“These scars may be a part of you,” she whispered, bringing his right wrist up to her lips, “but they do not define you,” she added, kissing the scar tissue that marred his wrist. “They tell me you are a brave man,” she continued, bring his left wrist up, “who suffered at the hands of terrible men,” she finished kissing his left wrist. She left go of his wrists, untying his under robe, and pulling it over his head as he sat down at the edge of the bed. “That you stood up for what you believed in,” she continued, tracing the word “traitor” Walburga had carved into his chest, “no matter how hard others tried to get you to fold. “They tell me you are strong,” she added, lying down on the bed and pulling him on top of herself, “refusing to break when others would have.” She ran her hands up his back, gliding along the thick scars that crisscrossed his back. “They are marks of a man who overcame all this,” she finished, leaning into kiss him as her left hand squeezed his right leg, “to raise a son and fight to fix the world. They are part of you,” she concluded kissing him passionately, “but do not control you,” she finished laying back into the pillows.

“Thank you,” Sirius whispered, giving himself to her fully.


	14. Muggleborn Orientation

**1 st Aug, 1985**

Minerva McGonagall looked around the Leaky Cauldron in amazement, for it was positively bustling. All around her witches, wizards, and full families stepped out of the fireplace or popped into the pub before heading out back to Diagon Alley. Straightening her robes, she pressed through the crowds towards the entryway. It wouldn’t do for the muggleborns and their families to miss her in the crowd.

Over the next half hour, each of the four families she was guiding around the alley made their way into the pub, eyes wide with excitement and disbelief. She loved running the muggleborn introductions for precisely this reason – their excitement at the magical world reminded her of the wonder all around her that she grew used to throughout the year.

“Good afternoon everyone,” she greeted once the last family arrived. “My name is Minerva McGonagall and I am a professor of transfiguration at Hogwarts. Today I will be showing you around Diagon Alley and helping you purchase your first year school supplies. If you have any questions during the day, either about supplies or the wizarding world in general, please feel free to ask me. Are you ready?” All the children nodded in excitement while the parents agreed slightly more subdued. “Right. Then follow me this way. Remember to stick close. The alley appears to be crowded today and I don’t want anyone getting lost.”

The group fell in behind her as she greeted Tom and made her way out back. Tapping the bricks on the wall, the archway opened, revealing Diagon Alley in all its glory. Several of the parents gasped, while the children openly gaped, shouting in excitement at their first true look at the magical world. And Minerva, too, couldn’t help but gape, quickly closing her mouth. For the alley was a truly different place today. Hundreds of wizards were out and about, many of them shopping, but many just standing around and talking in the middle of the street. Streamers and lights had been draped building to building across the alley, and there was a group of musicians playing on stage set up across from Gringotts.

“Is it always this busy?” one of the parents, Mr. Baker if Minerva remembered correctly asked.

“No, today is quite unusual,” Minerva responded, leading the group through the alleyway.

“Here for the Harvest Festival?” a young man asked, holding an armful of pamphlets. “I’ve got guides to the festivities, only one knut each.”

Minerva blinked, remembering the date. August 1st. Minerva had heard rumors of a Harvest Festival being held in the alley this year, but this was far larger than anything she had expected. “We are here for school supplies,” she answered. “Today is the traditional muggleborn orientation day,” she explained.

“Ah, Professor McGonagall, of course. Official school business,” the young man said, pulling a few pamphlets of the top of his stack. “I was instructed to give one of these to every first time alley goer free of charge,” he explained. “How many firsties do you have?”

“Four. And thank you,” she answered, accepting the pamphlets and handing them to the parents.

“No problem. But it is Lord Black you should be thanking. He is the one who organized the event. Even paid for Fortescue's Ice-Cream to give away free ice cream all day!”

Minerva raised an eyebrow, ushering the group towards Gringotts. She was aware the Blacks were spearheading the efforts to bring back the old ways, but to actively help muggleborns learn about the world? Well, it certainly was not in line with the old Black ways.

 

“So what is the Harvest Festival?” Mrs. Davis asked as the group exited Gringotts, newly changed coin in hand.

“It is a traditional wizarding holiday that celebrates the harvest and promotes harmony with magic. When the United Kingdom converted to Christianity, the wizarding world did not. While the annual influx of muggleborn students did eventually bring Christianity to our society, many of the old magical families still celebrate pre-Christian holidays.”

“So you are pagans?” Mr. Taylor asked, clearly appalled.

Minerva frowned. “Many witches and wizards may not be Christian, but they would not consider themselves pagan, as such.”

“Think of it as a different country and culture,” Mrs. Wilson suggested as they entered the bookstore. “We may be geographically in London, but it hardly feels like it!” she exclaimed in excitement. “It truly is amazing, magic is real,” she added nearly in a whisper of disbelief.

“Quite right,” agreed Minerva. “Wizarding society has been separate from muggle society since the Statute of Secrecy was enacted in 1692. As such, while we share a physical country, our culture and beliefs can be quite different. I find muggleborn students who go in with an open mind tend to fare better than those who expect our world to be the same.”

“You want my son to become a pagan and denounce Christianity?” spluttered Mr. Taylor in disgust.

“Not to denounce. Merely be open to learning about what is essentially a foreign culture. Now, come along. I believe the children are getting distracted by the free ice cream outside.”

Mr. Baker laughed as he turned to find the four eleven-year-old were indeed, drifting towards the free ice cream. “Perhaps I better join them,” he said. “Honey, will you pick out the textbooks for Christopher?”

“Sure. Go enjoy the ice cream like the child you are,” his wife agreed, following Minerva into the store.

 

By early afternoon, the only supplies remaining were the school robes. It was the slowest a muggleborn shopping trip had gone for Minerva, but she couldn’t help but think it was also the most successful. The children had met several of their future classmates while getting distracted by the various events and treats around the alley, while the parents had asked more questions about the wizarding world then Minerva could remember a group ever asking.

“We have one more location to make it to,” she announced, stopping outside Madam Malkin’s. “Once we have purchased school robes, you are free to explore the alley and festival as you please,” she added, much to the children’s (and several parents) delight. “You exit the same way you came in, only a wand is not required to exit. Shall we head in?”

The group nodded and she ushered them into the shop. As they looked around the store, Minerva couldn’t help but notice a rack of traditional wizarding tunics by the window. Last time she remembered, Madam Malkin had not sold traditional ware.

“Ah, hello Professor McGonagall. Is this a muggleborns orientation?” she asked looking at the group, all of whom were wearing muggle clothes.

“Yes, those from the greater London area. The rest will be here tomorrow, but I will need to collect them by portkey. Much more work. Can you fit these four for robes?”

“Of course,” agreed Madam Malkin, waving her wand to summon her measuring tape and quill. “Who first? One of the young ladies perhaps?”

The Davis girl stepped up on the platform, and the tape measure went to work.

“So what do wizards wear?” Mrs. Wilson asked, looking about the room.

“Many, especially those in with ties in the muggle world tend to wear normal muggle clothes underneath an outer robe,” Madam Malkin explained. “The Hogwarts uniform is like that. Slacks, shirt, and tie with an outer robe with an option for a skirt for the girls. I tend to sell mostly outer robes, muggle type wear, and some dress robes.”

“And those?” Mrs. Wilson asked, pointing to the display of tunics.

“Traditional under robes. I usually do not sell them, as only the old traditional families tend to wear them, and even then not all the time. Most of them are quite wealthy and prefer to have their robes hand tailored or buy them from the more expensive Twilfitt and Tattings. But with the Harvest Festival here in the alley this year, they have made a bit of a comeback. I decided to stock some pre-sized tunics for those who want to wear more traditional garb at a more reasonable price,” Madam Malkin explained as she handed the girl an outer robe.

“Fascinating,” Mrs. Davis exclaimed, as she looked at the tunics. “Oh this one is a lovely color!” she gushed, pulling out a beautiful periwinkle robe.

“It’s almost like a peasant blouse turned into a dress,” agreed Mrs. Wilson. “How much are they?”

“That one there is eighteen sickles.”

Mrs. Wilson looked to Minerva in confusion. “About twenty-four pounds,” she explained. “A galleon is currently about twenty-five pounds. There are seventeen sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. In other words, about a pound fifty to a sickle and a little less than five pence to a knut.”

“Blimey, wizarding money is confusing,” muttered Mr. Baker.

“Agreed. But about twenty-four quid is not to bad for a dress. What do you think dear?” Mrs. Wilson asked, turning to her daughter.

“I like the purple one better, but they are nice looking. Would it be weird for me to own one?” she asked, looking at Professor McGonagall.

“I do not believe so. If Madam Malkin is selling traditional under robes, I suspect many of your classmates will have at least one. During the weekends you are free to wear whatever you like. Not to mention there are plans to celebrate the solstice and Samhaim this fall. A traditional robe would be appropriate for sure,” she finished.

The girl nodded, and went to try the robe on while one of the boys stepped onto the platform to be fitted. By the time they left the shop, both girls had picked out a traditional under robe, while Mr. Taylor had continued to mutter about pagans. (The Baker boy had decided he was not ready to wear a dress just yet. Robes were dress like enough, thank you very much). All in all, Minerva considered the day a success as she led the Taylors out of the alley while the other three families continued to explore the festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going with the reddit calculated exchange rate of ~$25 to a galleon instead of Rowlings 5 pounds. It just seems to make a lot more sense. In 1985, the exchange rate was ~1:1 (yay, easy math!) So, in 1985 a dress for 24 quid would be about $50 now. Not too cheap, but remember my version of Hogwarts is the equivalent to Eton. These people would be fairly wealthy and able to afford a $50 dress for an eleven-year-old. (It took a surprising amount of time to figure out how much to charge for robes!)


	15. A Social Debut

**Sept 15 th, 1985**

Minerva McGonagall looked out across her house of lions. They were a good group this year, though the first year class was rather small. A result of the war unfortunately, and the class sizes were only growing smaller. They likely wouldn’t return to prewar sizes for a quite a while. But a good group indeed.

“As you may remember,” she began, the common room instantly falling quite as she began, “we had a guest speaker last year. Mrs. Greengrass came to Hogwarts to talk about wizarding holidays. Based on the success of that visit, I have decided, in conjunction with the other heads of house to offer more special interest lectures throughout the year. Speakers will be coming approximately once a month to lecture on a topic of their choice in the wizarding world. These lectures are, of course, entirely optional, but I hope you take advantage of the unique opportunity they will provide you.”

“What topics will they be lecturing about?” a fourth year, William Weasley, asked.

“The first one will be lecturing about wizarding dance, music, and manners,” Minerva explained. “I think you may find the lecture especially interesting, as we have decided to host a series of balls at Hogwarts this year,” she added. Not that it had been easy. Balls had been a highlight of her time at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore had quickly done away with them after he had taken over as headmaster. Only the combined efforts of her, SInistra, Sprout, and Flitwick, had managed to overrule him. “There will also be one covering curse breaking, warding, dragon taming, quidditch, and other dangerous jobs,” she continued.

Everyone in the room started whispering excitedly to one other at the thought of dangerous professions. The downside of being head of Gryffindor, she supposed.

“When are the balls?” a seventh year girl asked. “Will we have an opportunity to buy dress robes before hand?”

“The first ball will be held in mid October. Seeing as there are two Hogsmeade weekends before that, you should be good. First and second years will be allowed to attend as well, so if you need robes, please inform me as soon as possible,” she finished, thinning her lips. She was not looking forward to the announcement of dance curfews for the younger years. Not to mention policing older students who wandered away from the great hall. Perhaps this was why Dumbledore cancelled the dances… “Sign ups for the lectures will be posted a week before the event and dances will be announced three weeks before. Now off to bed,” she finished, departing the common room.

 

“You want me to do what?” Lucius asked, his left eyebrow raised to a truly impressive height.

“I want you to teach the boys to dance,” Sirius responded, taking a generous sip of fire whiskey. “Our wives have conspired against me and determined that since Draco turned five in June and Procyon turned five in August, they are old enough to attend their first ball. Hence the need for dance lessons.”

“Merlin save me,” groaned Lucius, joining Sirius in his indulgence. “Dance lessons for five-year-olds? And you cannot do this?”

Sirius stretched out his right leg, slowly. “I am afraid I do not dance as well as I did as a child. And I certainly cannot dance to Viviane or Narcissa’s standards for a dance lesson.”

“Convenient excuse,” muttered Lucius, tossing back another large sip of whiskey.

“Surely you are not making light of the wounds I suffered while wrongfully imprisoned?” Sirius asked, leaning back into his chair, a smirk on his face.

“Of course not,” retorted Lucius. “But this means you are taking them robe shopping.”

Sirius groaned. “Can’t Viviane and Narcissa do that? Alone? Or with Andromeda and Melania if they must?”

Lucius stared at Sirius, trying his hardest to convey his disbelief.

“Of course not,” sighed Sirius. “I do not mind the balls themselves, but I am convinced they were designed to torture us men in the lead up.”

“And that is why we have gambling. Speaking of which…”

“Yes, I am free this Saturday evening for poker. Is Avery hosting this week?”

“No, Avery hosted last week when you were in Paris. Smith is.”

“Pity, Avery has better drinks.”

“But Smith will be sure to invite Abbott. And both of them are lousy bluffers.”

“Hufflepuffs through and through,” agreed Sirius. “Seven o’clock?”

“Per usual. I shall inform Narcissa I will help her and Viviane with the dancing lessons. Will Draco and Procyon be the only two?”

“I am unsure at the moment. There is a possibility that Ernie will join them. I know the Greengrass girls have been in lessons since they could walk.”

“Amanda is a wonderful dancer; I expect nothing less from her.”

“Of course. Well, I should head back. I will see you Friday afternoon for the family dinner,” Sirius said, rising from his seat. With a nod from Lucius, he exited the room.

 

Robe shopping was just as terrible as Sirius had imagined it would be. Five-year-old wizards, now matter how many lessons on etiquette and manners they had suffered through, were not particularly patient. And seeing as the upcoming MacMillan Ball was to be the boy’s social debut, both Narcissa and Viviane were insistent that the boys’ robes be perfect.

“The grey matched Procyon’s eyes so well,” Narcissa insisted, holding up a silk grey robe.

“But so does the green. And young boys definitely need some color to their outfits. I fear the grey will make him look too serious,” Viviane responded.

“Talking about Sirius,” Sirius muttered from across the room where he was attempting to entertain the boys with a portable chess set.

“Now, now, cousin,” Narcissa practically sang, “you know how important it is to find the perfect robes for the boys.”

“And I thought the last five you picked out would be just fine,” he pouted back.

“Sirius,” Viviane stated, catching his eyes and staring at him.

“Of course,” he agreed quickly. “The robes must be perfect.” He did not want his wife angry at him. (He had discovered her vicious streak last month when he had been late for dinner. She had cursed his hairbrush to knot his hair every time he tried to brush it. Not cool. Very not cool.) “But how about I take the boys to Fortescue’s for a treat. They have been very well behaved so far.” Not to mention he needed a break from the endless barrage of robes. He valued looking good, and often spent a good deal of time getting ready in the morning, but this was ridiculous.

The two women shared a look, and Narcissa nodded. “Alright. You take the boys for a treat. When you get back, we will have them try on a last round of robes and make a decision.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sirius agreed. “Boys, time for some ice cream!” he announced, packing the chess set up with a quick flip of his wand.

“Chocolate?” Harry asked, quickly following Sirius out the door, Draco on his heels.

“And strawberry for Draco. Of course.”

“What if I don’t want strawberry?” Draco asked.

Sirius stopped, turning to look at the boy. “You don’t want strawberry?”

“I do. Just, what if?”

“Then I suppose you would have something else. But today, one chocolate, one strawberry, and one double fudge swirl are what we need,” he announced entering the ice cream parlor happily.

 

Sirius watched proudly as Harry danced with the other children at the MacMillan Ball. He looked adorable in his dress robes (they had gone with green), his hair tied back to look like Sirius’. The children were dancing towards the front of the room, alternating between proper waltzes (or at least as proper as pre-Hogwarts aged children could achieve) and group dances of a more exuberant nature.

“He is a good dancer,” Viviane remarked, handing Sirius a drink.

“He is. Though with you teaching him, what else would I expect?”

Viviane smiled and leaned into Sirius, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Why thank you. But you have done a marvelous job raising him. He is a sweet boy.”

“He was already walking and talking by the time I got him,” Sirius responded smiling. “It’s much easier when they spend half the day with tutors. I only hope I do as well with our child,” he added.

“I am sure you will do marvelously. Besides, I am sure Arcturus and Melania will dote on this one as much as they dote on Procyon.”

Sirius laughed happily. “I caught Melania knitting a baby blanket the other day. Its still months before the kid will be born.”

“Melania knits?”

“Only for newborns,” Sirius admitted. “I think the blankets she knit for me and Regulus are still in some chest at Grimauld.”

“Will you ever go back there?”

“To Grimauld? No, at least not until the old bat dies.”

“That is no way to refer to your mother, no matter how…”

“Crazy? Insane? Evil she is?”

“Yes, all of those.”

“Lets desist with this talk of my crazy, insane, evil mother. Care to join me for a dance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mention Harry turning five in August because when the Blacks adopted him, they would have changed his official birthdate. It would be a bit suspicious if Sirius had a kid (even adopted) who was born on July 31st.


	16. Walburga: Dead at Last

**Dec 3 rd, 1985**

Arcturus strode into the sitting room, his face grim and dark. “Walburga passed away last night,” he announced, taking a seat in front of the fire.

“Finally,” muttered Sirius, not putting down the book he was reading.

“Show a little respect,” Arcturus demanded as Viviane snatched the book out of Sirius’ hands and slid a bookmark in, closing it.

“I have never pretended to love the woman,” Sirius retorted, “yet alone like her.”

“Nether the less, she was your mother and a member of the House of Black. You are expected to at least mourn her passing a little.”

“Mourn Pollux and Irma’s daughter if you cannot mourn your mother,” Viviane suggested.

“Fine,” sighed Sirius. “Though they are hardly my…”

“I suggest you do not finish that sentence,” Arcturus warned. “No good will come of it. You will add a statement or two to her obituary, and you will show respect at her funeral.”

“Very well,” he acquiesced. “I will attend the funeral. What are we going to do with Grimmauld Place now that it is empty?”

“I was thinking perhaps Melania and I would move in there.”

“What?” Sirius asked in disbelief.

“I know you will never willingly live in the house, and everyone else in the family has their own home. With the baby on the way, I figured you and Viviane might not want to live with your grandparents any longer.”

“We cannot possible kick you out of your own home, though,” responded Viviane.

“You would not be kicking us out. Melania and I have been discussing it in length. We thought about perhaps moving to the French villa or the Bulgarian castle, but we want to stick close by. Residing in Grimmauld and the villa seems like an optimal solution.”

“But Black Manor is the traditional home of the Lord Black. Surely you do not mean to change that?” Sirius asked, looking concerned.

“Of course not. But I have been Lord Black for sixty years. While I am not old quite yet, I am no longer young. I think it might be time to hand the Lordship to you, once you have an heir.”

“Me? Lord?” Sirius asked in disbelief, voice cracking. “But I am not…”

“Intelligent? Driven? Cunning? Driven to make the world a better place? I think you could do great things with the Lordship, Sirius. You have managed to turn this family around.”

“Nonsense, grandfather. You are the one who got me out of Azkaban.”

“And you prompted me to bring the family together again. To reestablish the Black family as the political power we once were. To bring back and spread the old ways. And, though I loath to admit it, pull our heads out of our arses regarding muggleborns.”

Sirius stared at his grandfather a moment, mouth hanging slightly open. His grandfather, admitting his views on muggleborns might have been wrong? And using the word arse? What was the world coming to?

“Close you mouth, it is quite unbecoming,” Viviane chided. “And Arcturus, no matter where you and Melania and even Sirius and I end up living, our home will always be open to you.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Arcturus smiled. “Will you join me in a game of chess?”

“Of course. Cy is with his tutor until four.”

 

While Sirius fully intended to never live in Grimmauld Place ever again and would happily never set foot in it, he could not, in good consciousness, leave the cleaning out of the place to his grandfather and grandmother. Which was why he found himself rooting through cabinets full of dark, disgusting, and downright creepy artifacts in the drawing room of the house on a Saturday morning.

“I had forgotten how creepy this house was,” Andromeda remarked, pulling a shrunken skull- hair still attached- off a shelf.

“It was always creepier than mother and father’s,” agreed Narcissa. “Though I do think it has suffered during the past few years.”

“Suffered from a full dose of crazy,” agreed Sirius adding a cursed ring that causes impotence to the pile for the curse breakers. “Why would you ever need a ring that causes impotence?”

“I have no idea,” Ted answered from across the room where he was documenting the uncursed items they were keeping. “Was Walburga really that bad?”

“Honey, do you remember my mother’s reaction when she found out we were dating?”

“I believe she threatened to castrate me if I tried to even take you on another date.”

“That would have been a kindness in compassion to what Aunt Walburga would have done.”

“I believe she had a cage in the basement devoted to muggleborns who “overstepped their bounds,”” Sirius added.

Ted shuddered. “Wonderful woman.”

“Hardly,” Sirius muttered, looking at his watch. “It is nearly lunch time. I suggest we wash up. Mipsy and Dobby should have cleaned the kitchen by now.”

“What are we doing for lunch?” Andromeda asked, tossing another necklace into the keep pile.

“Viviane is bringing something over. Lolly’s cooking I believe.”

“Excellent. Lolly makes the best onion soup,” Ted smiled, heading towards the kitchen.

“And how is Viviane doing?” Andromeda asked, following her husband and cousin towards the kitchen.

“She is doing marvelously. She felt the baby move last night. It was an incredible feeling.”

“The very best,” Narcissa agreed, sharing a look with her sister. Both had enjoyed being pregnant, Narcissa even more so as she had struggled to get pregnant with Draco. It was a fairly common problem for pureblood matches. (And one of the reasons Lucius hated the Weasleys so much. Not that he would ever admit it.)

 

Post lunch, the group was joined by Arcturus as they sorted through the house. It was hard work, and relatively dangerous, as many of the items had truly spectacular curses on them, many of which were rare. Unfortunately, they were stuck doing the work themselves, as most of the items were also highly illegal. While Blacks were above manual labor and such, they also did not want to pay thousands of galleons in fines and have all the items confiscated.

Sirius was just finishing going through the last of the items in the drawing room when he came across a locket. It reeked of dark magic, darker than anything else in the house, practically making his skin crawl. He picked it up carefully after checking for touch activated curses, only to feel it push against his occlumency shields. Actively strengthening them, he called for his grandfather.

“What is it?” Arcturus asked, entering the room.

“This locket. It is dark magic, truly dark. I can feel it pushing against my occlumency shields. I cast all the detection spells I know, but nothing came up.”

“Let me see,” Arcturus commanded, pulling out a piece of silk. Sirius laid the locket onto the piece of silk and watched as Arcturus cast spell after spell on the locket. After a few moments he lowered his wand, shutting his eyes tightly, breathing slowly as his magic flared.

“What is it?” Sirius asked, putting a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder to calm him.

“The wickedest of magic inventions,” whispered Arcturus. “The question is whose.”

“A horcrux,” Sirius whispered in response, taking a step back from the locket. He had been forced to read Magick Moste Evile several times a child and practically had the book memorized. “How do we discover who it belongs to?”

“There is a way to test magical signatures. If it is a Blacks…” he trailed off, leaving Sirius to imagine what he would do. Horcruxes were considered abominations, too foul for even a Black. If someone in the family had dared make one, then there was nowhere on earth that would save them from Arcturus’ wrath.

“Cast it now,” Sirius demanded. “If it is someone we know…”

Arcturus nodded, then cast the spell. The results flashed up and the two men stared at each other, a look of utter horror on their faces.

“Bring everyone back to the Manor with you,” Sirius commanded, straightening himself, eyes hard and firm. “I will contact everyone who bears the mark. If they knew…”

“They will suffer the wrath of the House of Black,” Arcturus agreed, handing the locket back to Sirius and stalking out of the room.

 

By the end of the day, Sirius had contacted everyone from the old families who bore Riddle’s mark. He stood in the receiving room of Black Manor, waiting for their arrivals, pacing back and forth. Melania, Viviane, and Procyon had portkeyed away to France with Draco and Narcissa shortly after Arcturus had returned, leaving only Sirius and his grandfather in the castle.

With a whoosh, the floo came to life, and Lord Nott and his son stepped out of the floo.

“Sirius Black,” Lord Nott greeted. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I am afraid tonight is business. And not good business at that. Mipsy,” he commanded, waiting a moment for the elf to appear. “Show Lord Nott and his son to the meeting room. Then return here to escort the rest of the guests.”

“Yes Master Sirius,” the elf agreed, ushering the two Notts out of the room. Sirius was merely thankful that Arcturus’ announcement that he was handing the Lordship to Sirius after his firstborn’s birth meant Mipsy was willing to drop the Young before his title. It was hard to command respect when your elf addressed you like a child.

Next through the floo were the Averys , followed by the Flints, Carrows, and Parkinsons. Within a half hour, everyone had arrived and was seated in the meeting room. With a nod from Arcturus, Sirius stood at the end of the table, looking down at the gathered witches and wizards.

“As you may have noticed, all of you here supported Riddle during his reign of terror,” Sirius began. “And all of you are, no doubt, aware of my feelings towards your support.”

“We have been over all this before,” spat Thomas Rosier. “You fought for Dumbledore and we fought for Riddle. I thought we have moved past that.”

“As had I,” Sirius agreed. “The last two years have been good for all of us. Business is up, people are looking to our families for guidance once again. And I think we all agree we do not want to start killing each other as we did before.”

“As much as it pains for me to say this, but I am with Rosier. We have been over this before. And Riddle is dead,” Lord Flint added.

“Unfortunately Riddle is not as dead as we thought.” The group instantly fell silent at Sirius’ announcement, looking at him questioningly. “Today Lord Black and I found a horcrux belonging to Riddle.”

“A horcrux?” Lord Nott asked, paling.

“Yes. A horcrux.”

“But that is… unthinkable!” Alecto Carrow cried.

Sirius simply stared at the man. He detested Alecto Carrow, who unlike the others, did not regret serving Riddle and had made no move to change how he treated muggleborns. “Exactly. Riddle did the unthinkable. He created a magical abomination worse than all others. Even the Blacks have never created a horcrux.”

“But if you found it, why not destroy it?” Abraxas Malfoy asked.

“Because we have reason to believe he made more than one,” Arcturus responded, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “After I discovered who it belonged to, I looked up more information regarding horcruxes.”

“Only a Black,” smirked an Avery from down the table.

Arcturus shot a deadly glare at him and continued. “Based on what I read and what I detected from the horcrux, the soul fragment is too small.”

“Meaning the horcrux was created by splitting an already split soul in half,” Sirius explained, seeing the confused looks on several people’s faces. “There is at least one other out there. Possibly more. Which is why all of you are here.”

“You want us to look for them? How would we ever find one? He could have used anything!” Lord Burke protested.

“We have reason to believe the items will be historically important objects, or at least good fakes of them. Riddle had quite the ego,” Sirius remarked. “But we do not suggest you search for them. We only ask you examine any item he gave to you, either without explanation or for safekeeping. If one is a horcrux, or you think it is a horcrux, bring it to me or Arcturus.”

“Why you?” Lucius asked.

“So we can examine them and see if we can determine whether there are more. Once we have them all, we will destroy them. We will not be sharing any of the information we have on horcruxes. There is no need for that information to be out there.”

The witches and wizards at the table agreed, the mood dark and solemn. Nobody, no matter how dark they were, approved of horcruxes. To create one was to defy nature, to insult the very magic that gave you power. They may not agree with Sirius or even like him, but they would work with him on this. A wizard who created horcruxes did not deserve to live, let alone have their support.


	17. Seven?!

**Jan 13 th, 1986**

“One of those things was in my house!” Narcissa yelled, entering the sitting room of Black Manor. “In my house! Draco could have… I just cannot believe…” she added.

“I am sorry, Narcissa,” Lucius responded, embracing his wife. “I had no idea the diary was something so dark. I never would have put our child at risk. I love Draco more than anything else in the world.”

“I know,” Narcissa admitted, leaning into her husband. Despite his faults, Lucius really did love his son more than anything else. He was not usually a loving man, and struggled to show it, but Draco meant the world to him. She knew he would not willingly endanger his son.

“Well, it is no longer in your house,” Sirius added, glancing at the offending object. “Lucius brought it here as soon as he found it.”

“Unfortunately the diary conclusively proves Riddle made more than one of these things,” Lucicus added, shaking his head. He had supported Riddle, fully believing in his ideals and actions. Finding out he was a half-blood with no regard for the pureblood ways or lives was one thing- he had still been right about muggles. But this, this was another. Souls were sacreda and should never be split.

Sirius nodded solemnly. “The worse part is the size of the soul fragment.”

“What do you mean?” Narcissa asked, turning her attention back to her cousin.

“I mean this fragment is more than twice as large as the fragment in the locket.”

“So there is at least one other?”

“Possibly more.”

“And that is what truly concerns me,” Arcturus added, entering the room. “If there are at least three horcruxes, Merlin knows how many he made.”

“Oh Merlin,” Sirius added in a whisper, his face paling alarmingly. “Grandfather, a word alone?” he asked, his voice wavering.

Arcturus nodded, stepping out into the hall with Sirius. A moment and several privacy words later, he asked, “What is it?”

“Harry’s scar.” Sirius responded, tone grim. “We did the cleansing ritual because Andromeda detected dark magic in it. She was not sure what the dark magic was, so we assumed it was a result of Riddle trying to kill him. Since the cleansing ritual removed all traces of dark magic and the scar faded, we thought no more of it.”

“You think it was a horcrux?”

“Not an intentional one. But the soul grows fragile with the creation of horcuxes. If Riddle made at least three…”

“Then his soul may have split. Especially if he intended to make on with Harry’s murder.”

“So we have four known horcruxes. Two in our possession, one destroyed. Another one unknown.”

“You think he made three others?” Arcturus asked, mulling it over.

“Do you think he made more?” Sirius asked, growing alarmed. One more horcrux they might find. But several more?

“I fear he might have. If he was willing to split is soul so many times, he might have been aiming for a magically significant number.”

“Merlin, you think he made seven.”

“Or more likely six, with himself being the seventh horcrux.”

“So the diary, the locket, the scar, and three others? How will we ever find them?”

“I do not know,” muttered Arcturus. “But if Riddle gave one to Lucius and possibly Regulus for safekeeping…”

“Then he likely gave the rest to other people. Come, let us share this with Narcissa and Lucius. They would have a better idea than me as to who he might have trusted.” Arcturus nodded, and dispelled the wards before returning to the sitting room.

 

“We think we might be looking for three other horcruxes,” Arcturus explained. “Who else might have Riddle entrusted with his possessions?”

“The Carrows?” Lucius asked, turning to his wife.

“I would think those in Azkaban. They were the most loyal to him,” Narcissa responded. “The Carrows were always a little untrustworthy.”

“That would be Lestrange, Crouch, Dolohov, Rockwood, and Travers,” Sirius responded grimly, his mind wandering to the monsters he was imprisoned with.

“Crouch is unlikely,” Arcturus added. “Senior is too high in the ministry. Rockwood would likely know what a horcrux was. But Dolohov, Travers and Lestrange are strong possibilities.”

“Do we have access to the Lestrange vaults?” Sirius asked. “I know Dolohov’s family is all out of the country and Travers Jr will agree to search his house and vault.”

“I might have access to Bellatrix’s vault,” Narcissa said. “I can check this week.”

“And I’ll ask Nott and Mulciber if they were ever given anything. They were some of his earliest followers,” Lucius added.

“Will they help?”

“Nott will for sure. And he can convince Mulciber. They might also have ideas on where Riddle may have kept his horcruxes or how to get into the Dolohov vault.”

“Very well,” Arcturus agreed. “We will see you this weekend.”

Lucius nodded and followed his wife out of the room, leaving the two Black men to talk.

 

Once all the illegal artifacts had been disposed of from Grimmauld Place, Arcturus hired someone to totally renovate the house, restoring the old furniture, tapestries, and portraits while removing the dark, depressing feel of the house.

“Melania, though I love her dearly, is a kinder soul than I. She would not stand for such a dark, depressing house,” Arcturus explained to Sirius as they walked through the renovated building. “Regal and imposing, yes. But dark and depressing are out.”

“The removal of the house elf heads does a lot for the atmosphere,” agreed Sirius as the pair made their way up the staircase.

“I am not sure who started that tradition,” remarked Arcturus. “But it must have been an offshoot of the main line. There are no decapitated house elves in the Manor.”

“And let us keep it that way. I see you restored the coat of arms in the flooring,” Sirius added, looking down at an intricate wood inlay on the landing.

“I am surprised you even knew it was there.”

“I explored much of the house as a child in attempts to flee Walburga. There is a matching one on the fourth floor.”

“Also restored. On the subject of things you did as a child, were permanent sticking charms really necessary?”

“I was young, horny, and looking to rebel. Sticking pictures of bikini clad muggle woman on my wall seemed like a good idea at the time.” Arcturus raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Oh, come on. I am sure you did something you regret as a child. At least I did not get a girl pregnant in third year like grandfather Pollux.”

Arcturus laughed as the pair finished looking through the second floor. “Not from lack of trying as I heard.”

“Hogwarts rumors are precisely that. Rumors. But enough talk of my youthful indiscretions. Let us proceed to the third floor. It will make a nice change to look around without being hexed.”

“You are still youthful,” reminded Arcturus leading the way up the staircase.

 

It took another week after Arcturus and Melania moved to Grimmauld for Sirius to move into the master suite. It still felt like it was his grandfather’s room and he would have happily remained in his old room if not for his wife.

“We will have a newborn in less than two months,” she reminded him. “And if I must be woken at all hours of the morning to feed the child, so will you.”

“But we don’t share a bedroom currently,” he pointed out. “So how would moving to the master suite change that?”

“Because the master suite has two bedchambers that share a sitting room where the baby’s crib will be for the first two weeks,” Viviane responded tiredly as she eased herself onto a lounge. “I am enormous,” she complained.

“You are beautiful,” Sirius responded automatically.

“Thank you. And have you ever been into the master suite?”

“It has always been Arcturus and Melania’s suite. I had no reason to ever enter. It would be improper, not to mention impolite.”

“They no longer live here. And it is the master suite of Black Manor. You are Lord Black.”

“Not officially until next week’s Wizengamont meeting. Arcturus will pass the title over then.”

“And immediately take off to France for a month,” Viviane added, thinking of the beautiful Black Villa by the Mediterranean.

“Melania will be back in time for the birth,” Sirius assured her. “And your mother and father will be here as well. Arcturus and Melania deserve a break from Britain. I do not believe they have left in over two years.”

“Because of you, my dear.”

“That may be true, but the statement remains. Is there anything you need?” he asked, sitting down by his wife’s feet to massage them.

“That feels wonderful,” Viviane cooed, relaxing. “I am good at the moment. Lolly brought me a perfect bowl of strawberries with chocolate earlier. Now I just need to agree to moving into the master suite.”

“I promise I will do so this evening. Now relax.”

 

“Narcissa has finally gained access to Bellatrix’s vault,” Lucius informed Sirius and Arcturus as they entered the Wizengamont chambers.

“When will she enter?” Sirius asked.

“Tomorrow morning. She wants one of us with her, as she has no desire to deal with the object if we find one.”

“I will accompany her,” Sirius agreed. “Arcturus leaves for France tonight and I fear Melania will rebel against me if I delay him.”

“She can be quite dangerous when she wants to be,” Arcturus agreed. “Do not let the Hufflepuff exterior fool you. She has been a Black for over sixty years.”

“Hence why I will accompany Narcissa. Have you heard back from Nott or Mulciber yet?”

“Nott searched his house and vault thoroughly. He likes the idea of one being in the same house as his son as much as I do. Mulciber says he has nothing. Though Nott did mention Riddle wore a ring back in school that reeked of dark magic. He figured it was a normal sort of cursed ring.”

“But better safe than sorry. Does he remember anything else about it?” Sirius asked.

“Not at the moment. But perhaps with the aide of a pensive.”

“Inform him he may stop by tomorrow evening. I will accompany him in examining his memories in my pensive,” Sirius commanded Lucius. “Travers Jr. also reports no luck. Even if both Lestrange and Dolohov have one, we are likely still missing one.”

“Hopefully Nott will pull through. I do not wish to chance any piece surviving,” admitted Lucius softly.

“Nor I. But now I believe it is time for us to take our seats.”

“It is time for me to retire,” agreed Arcturus sitting in the Black seat as Sirius headed to the gallery where he would wait until called.


	18. Wizengamont

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was an absolute pain to write. I'm not even sure I like it, so don't be surprised if I edit it (I won't change the overall events of the chapter, just style and such)

**Later that day (aka new chapter)**

 

“Let us now begin the February session of the 445th Wizengamont to order,” Chief Warlock Greengrass announced. “Before we begin this month’s agenda, are there any other items of note?”

“I would like to announce I am stepping down as Lord Black,” Arcturus stated, standing in front of his seat. “In my place, Sirius Orion Black will be taking over as Lord Black.”

Whispering broke out among the Wizengamont members. It was certainly not unheard of for an aging Lord to step down in favor of a younger heir, but the Blacks tended to hoard power. For Arcturus to abdicate in favor of Sirius meant he fully supported his grandson and his political stances. Any division between the two had been resolved.

“Very well, Lord Sirius Black, please take your seat amongst the Wizengamont members,” Chief Warlock Greengrass commanded.

Sirius made his way to the Black seat, nodding to his father as he passed. He had already taken over the Lordship magically and monetarily earlier in the week, and would give his oath to the Wizengamont at the end of the session. But first he would participate in his first ever meeting.

“Thank you, Lord Black,” the Chief Warlock stated as Sirius sat. “The first item on the agenda is the reexamination of the legality of rituals for religious use. Lord Longbottom, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Lord Greengrass. As all of you are aware, magical rituals of all types were banned by the ministry shortly after the end of the war with Grindewald. While many banned rituals are truly evil, many of them are benign or used for healing and cleansing. I propose we reexamine the banning of rituals with the intent to legalize rituals that are neither blood based nor harmful. These rituals serve an important part in many of the traditional holidays, and it would be a shame for them to be lost,” Lord Longbottom stated, looking around the room at the various members of the Wizengamont.

Anthony Cartwright stood, waiting for the Chief Warlock to recognize him. With a nod form Lord Greengrass, he spoke. “If the rituals were banned within the last fifty years, within most of our lifetimes,” he added, “why would a reexamination of the laws lead to them being legalized again? Unless the purebloods plan on bribing the ministry?” he asked, staring straight at Lord Abraxas Malfoy.

“I believe this reexamination is necessary because we banned all rituals and blood magic prematurely due to fear,” Lord Longbottom responded. “We were so afraid of what Grindewald had accomplished, that we feared the next Dark Lord would rise and use rituals to become even more powerful. So we did not take the time to actually determine which rituals should be banned, instead banning them all.”

“Not to mention,” Lord Nott added, rising, “The next Dark Lord did indeed use rituals to increase his power. Those who become Dark Lords seldom care about the legality of their actions.”

“Thank you, Lord Nott,” the Chief Warlock added, “But please wait to be acknowledged,” he added, sounding a bit like a parent chastising a child. Lord Nott sat quickly, as some of the other members laughed softy. “Lord Black,” he acknowledged, as Sirius stood.

“Thank you, Lord Greengrass. I propose we form a committee to reexamine the lists of banned rituals. The committee would then bring their findings and conclusions to the Wizengamont at large, allowing the full body to vote on a final decision.”

“And who would be on this committee?” Johnathan White asked, looking at Sirius venomously. “I suppose it would be you and your fellow supporters of you-know-who?”

“Call him Riddle if you must,” Sirius spat. “And I could challenge you to an honor duel for your words. I am not, and have never been a supporter of Riddle. But as to my suggestion for who would sit the committee, I recommend a mix. Equal part hereditary Lords, Order of Merlin recipients, elected members, and ministry representatives. I of course, would not be a member, as I suspect the committee will require the members’ utmost attention over the following month. I doubt my wife would appreciate me being that busy right before our first child is born,” Sirius added.

“An excellent suggestion,” Amelia Bones agreed.

The debate continued as various factions bickered and insulted each other. After nearly two hours, Sirius gave a nod to Lord Abbott. The debate had lasted long enough. “Chief Warlock, shall we vote on the matter?” Lord Abbott asked, interrupting an argument between Bulstrode and Smith.

Lord Greengrass nodded and called for a vote. With a solid margin, the vote to form an investigative committee passed, and Lord Greengrass called for a short recess.

 

The second item on the agenda for the month was a modification to the exemptions to the Statute of Secrecy. Andromeda, since her impromptu rescue of Harry, and gained in interest in helping magical orphans, specifically those without wizarding relatives.

“We can detect muggleborns from their first case of accidental magic,” Andromeda had explained. “While I am certainly not in favor of removing children from loving families, it makes no sense for a muggleborn wizard to be placed in a muggle orphanage. Or, Merlin forbid, a half-blood orphan.”

“And what would you have us do?” Sirius asked.

“We already track where young muggleborns live. We should simply alter the rules so when we find a muggleborn without a family, we foster them in the wizarding world instead of the muggle world.”

“Do you really think that will work? We may have convinced many of Riddle’s old followers to support our new agenda, but do you think they would take in a muggleborn?”

“The worst of them, no. But there any dozens of muggleborns and half-bloods who could take in a child. And if the child was young enough, some of the older purebloods struggling to conceive might be willing.”

“I will think about it,” Sirius had promised.

And think about it he had done. He had brought the issue up to Lord Abbott after one of their poker nights to gauge his reaction. Overall, it had been positive. While Abbott himself was not willing to adopt, he thought it was a worthwhile idea to follow through with. So Sirius stood before the Wizengamont and introduced Andromeda’s amendment.

“The idea certainly seems reasonable,” Gregory Hughes, a half-blood ministry representative stated. “The children will end up in the wizarding world eventually and removing them from the muggle world earlier will only cut down on unfortunate incidents of accidental magic. I believe nearly a quarter of obliviator calls are made in response to accidental magic.”

“The children will also have the opportunity to learn about our world before attending school,” another wizard added.

“But where will these children go?” Lord Selwyn asked. “I cannot imagine forcing them upon witches and wizards will work well.”

“Certainly not,” agreed Sirius. “Depending on the age of the child, they would either be fostered or adopted by a willing couple. I already know of several couples who have struggled to have children. They would be more than happy to adopt a young child.”

“What about blood adoption of the child?” Abraxas Malfoy asked.

“As it currently stands, blood adoption is illegal, as are all blood based spells and rituals,” Chief Warlock Greengrass reminded the Wizengamont.

“Perhaps an exception could be made for the legal adoption of muggleborn orphans,” Sirius suggested. The Black family wanted blood adoption legalized (after all, he had blood adopted Harry) and starting with an exception for the adoption of muggleborns orphans just might be a way for muggleborn and non-traditionalists to support it.

“That would certainly make adoption of a muggleborn more acceptable to many of the old families,” Lord Longbottom agreed.

“Before the Statute of Secrecy, blood adopting muggleborns was common practice for many pureblooded families,” the ancient Lord Ollivander added. “It was a way of adding new blood and strong magic without losing pureblood status.”

“A child blood adopted by two purebloods would register as pureblood,” Abraxas muttered softly.

Sirius leaned back into his chair watching the debate continue. Yes, a child adopted by two purebloods would indeed register as a pureblood. Especially if they were a half-blood to begin with. If not, Harry’s new identity would never have lasted beyond meeting Pollux. Checking Procyon’s blood status was the first thing he had done after meeting the boy.


	19. The Cup

**Feb 10 th, 1986**

Sirius and Narcissa sat in silence as the Gringotts cart hurdled down deeper and deeper into the bowels on Gringotts. The ride was mildly unpleasant, but when one’s vaults were some of the oldest, one got used to it. Or, at least learned to take motion sickness potions. After passing a dragon, the cart screeched to a halt.

“Lestrange vault,” the goblin announced stepping out of the cart. “Wait here.” The goblin stepped forward, placing his hand on the center of the vault door. Slowly, the door began to open as the gears on the door turned. “You may enter,” he announced, stepping back.

Sirius nodded, leading the way into the vault. Once inside, he paused, feeling the magic. It was dark and malicious, eager to harm. It would be difficult searching for a horcrux, as the entire room with thick with similar magic. “Wait a moment,” he muttered as Narcissa moved to start shifting through items. “Knowing Bellatrix and the brothers, there could be some nasty traps in here.” He pulled out his wand, waving it in a complex manner as he muttered in latin.

“Anything?” Narcissa asked.

“Yes. I detect flagrante and gemino curses on the entire room. Easy enough to cancel…”

“But a nasty combination together. I will take the gemino.”

“On three?” Narcissa nodded, and the duo casted in unison, cancelling the curses on the vault. “I do not detect anything else on the entire vault, but as you might imagine, most of the items here are cursed. Be careful and move slowly.”

“Of course,” Narcissa agreed. “Shall I take the right, you the left?”

“Why not,” Sirius agreed, moving to a pile of old, ostentatious jewelry.

 

The pair had been in the vault for a little over an hour when Narcissa finally found something. “Sirius!” she called, stepping back from a golden cup. “I think this may be one.”

“Stay back then. I am coming,” he replied from across the room, carefully making his way through the piles of gold, jewels, and artwork. When he reached the cup in question, he gasped. “Is that Hufflepuff’s cup?” he asked, recognizing the piece.

“It might be,” Narcissa agreed. “You were always more into tales of the founders than I was.”

“Plus I loved a good mystery. I remember James and I tried to find Ravenclaw’s diadem while we were at school. We even tried to ask the Grey Lady,” he added, casting a set of detection spells on the cup.

“And how did that work out for you?”

“Not well,” Sirius laughed. “She screeched and we ran off in fear of Filtch. This is definitely one.”

“Do you think there might be another? You and Arcturus think their might be a total of five we need to find.”

“I doubt there is another here. The two we found already were entrusted to different people. I doubt he would give two to even the Lestranges.”

Narcissa nodded. “Grab the cup then. I think it is time to leave.”

 

“We found another one in the vault,” Sirius told his grandfather via floo. “It was Helga Hufflepuff’s cup.”

“And we found Salazar Slytherin’s locket at Grimmauld.”

“Do you think he made Godric Gryffindor’s sword one? Or Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem?”

“The sword seems unlikely. While it currently is missing, it has a habit of appearing to “true Gryffindors” in time of need. I believe the last time was during the War with Grindewald.”

“Earnest Smith, a muggleborn in Normandy, so the story goes.”

“Yes, you always did enjoy those stories. But, suffice to say, the sword’s almost sentient qualities make it an unlikely one.”

“And the diadem?”

“Lost for a thousand years. But, perhaps…”

“A diary and objects of the founders. He used notable, important things. I do not understand why he simply did not use a small pebble and hide in the ocean,” Sirius added as an afterthought.

“Let us be grateful he did not,” Arcturus responded with a slight smile. “And the size of this fragment?”

“Smaller than the locket. Which lends credence to our theory. I fear we have two more to find, possibly three.”

“And they will be harder. We have had no luck with the rest of his supporters.”  
“I will think about where to look. But for now, I will leave you to enjoy your vacation.”

“Farewell,” Arcturus responded, his head disappearing from the flames as they turned orange.

Sirius stood, and began pacing around the room. Two items belonging to the founders of Hogwarts. One diary. All entrusted to his followers. Lucius did not remember anything out of the ordinary when he was given the diary. Bellatrix would never help. Regulus, Walburga, and Orion were all dead. If only there was someone he could talk to in order to learn more… Kreature, he realized with a groan. The house elf hated him, and he hated the elf in return, but Regulus had always had a soft spot for him. And the elf loved Regulus more than anyone.

“Kreature!” he called, waiting a moment for the elf to appear.

“Master calls?” the elf asked, practically spitting the words at Sirius.

“A locket was found when Grimmauld place was cleaned out.”

“Throwing away Mistresses precious things, you were,” the elf muttered.

Sirius sighed. Kreature was a nasty piece of work, but he could not harm him. “The locket was large and silver, with a snake on it. Do you remember when the locket appeared in the house?”

“Master has Master Regulus’ locket?” the elf asked, his entire demeanor changed.

Sirius conjured an image of the locket in front of him. “Is this Regulus’ locket? Who gave it to him? When?”

“Master Regulus was not given the locket,” Kreature responded, desponded. “Master Regulus told Kreature to destroy it, but Kreature could not! Kreature has failed his Master!” the elf exclaimed.

Sirius looked at the elf confused. Regulus wanted to destroy the locket? “Tell me everything you know about the locket.” Sirius commanded.

“Kreature cannot. Master Regulus commanded me to not tell anyone in the family.”

“Regulus is dead. I am Lord Black. I command you to tell me everything you know about the locket. Now,” Sirius demanded, pushing his magic through the bond to the elf.

Kreature opened his mouth, seemingly to protest when suddenly he stopped. “Yes Master,” he agreed. “Kreature will tell you everything.”

 

Viviane entered the study late at night to find Sirius staring at a wall, a half empty bottle of firewhiskey in front of him. He didn’t even appear to notice her as she walked up behind him, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“What is wrong?” she asked softly.

“I abandoned him,” Sirius responded, his voice weak and emotional. “I left him behind when I ran away to be corrupted. And when he took the mark, I tried my best to forget he even existed.”

“Regulus?” Viviane asked, knowing only the subjects of his brother Regulus and his best friend, James, caused Sirius to fall apart like this.

“Regulus,” Sirius confirmed, starring down into the empty glass. “He turned against them. Regulus was never brave, preferring to think his way out of problems before they manifested, but he was brave in the end. He found out Riddle was far more evil then anyone ever though. He found out he dabbled in the darkest of arts, and he tried to stop him. And Regulus died, thinking I hated him.”

“I am sure that is not true. I am sure he knew you loved him, even if you struggled to show it.”

Sirius shook his head. “I cut him out. I wrote him off as a lost cause. How many people have I failed? How many people have I misread?” Sirius asked, a tear falling down his check.

“I do not know,” admitted Viviane. “But what I do know is that you are trying your hardest to fix it. To fix everything. You said Regulus died trying to stop Riddle. That is exactly what you are doing now. You say you failed James and Lily? You are raising their son now,” she added. “You are a good man, Sirius. Don’t you forget that.”

Sirius nodded, holding his wife’s hand in his. “I am glad you are in my life,” he admitted.

“And I am glad you let me be. Glad that you trust me enough to know even the dangerous secrets,” she added. “Now, enough about horcruxes tonight. Come to bed,” she finished softly, leading the way.

Sirius nodded, following his wife out of the room. He failed Regulus and James once, he would not fail them again. He would stop Riddle, and he would raise Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Sirius told Viviane about Procyon's real identity after he married her. He doesn't want the information getting out, but she is his wife. They may have married in part for political reasons, but they want a real marriage full of love. Keeping massive secrets (such as the real identity of your adopted son) is not conducive to that.


	20. Dueling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been a few days! I moved back into my college dorm this week and have been busy helping out with freshman orientation.

**Mar 31 st, 1986**

The birth of a child was a big deal in the old pureblood families. Children meant the line would continue, that the young couple was healthy, and the future secure. The birth of an heir, even more so. Without an heir, a Lord was never truly safe, and neither was the family. Which was why the entirety of the Black and Labelle families were gathered in Black Manor, anxiously awaiting the birth of Sirius and Viviane’s first child.

The Labelles had arrived a week before Viviane’s due date, bringing presents for the baby and a seemingly endless list of tips for dealing with a newborn. Sirius, having been involved in Harry’s life immediately after he was born, considered himself mildly experienced, but the Labelle’s lists of potential problems and solutions soon made him doubt that.

Viviane’s mother and Melania also soon joined forces, mothing the couple to death and dotting on Harry in a way only grandparents could. After all, Viviane’s mother lived in France and Melania had just spent a month there. Far too long without seeing her grandchild. Harry soon had a pile of new toys, books, and robes – including a brand new broom. Both grandmothers were concerned Harry would not take the addition of a sibling well and wanted to remind him that he was still loved.

By the time Viviane went into labor, Sirius was beyond grateful. He loved his family, but having everyone hanging around the manor all day was getting to be a bit much. Even Cassiopeia, Pollux, and Irma had joined the group, grouching and complaining about how long it had been since their last grandchild was born. Cygnus and Druella (thankfully) had remained away from the manor, citing too much excitement.

Unfortunately for Sirius, as Viviane was giving birth, Sirius was stuck in the sitting room with most of the family while Melania, Andromeda, Narcissa, and Viviane’s mother were allowed to be in the room with Viviane. He wanted nothing more than to be there with his wife, but tradition dictated only females be allowed in the room. Right about now, Sirius hated tradition.

Finally, after what felt like years, Mipsy popped into the sitting room, he big eyes beaming with happiness.

“And?” Sirius asked anxiously.

“A boy, Master Sirius,” Mipsy replied. “A healthy boy.”

Sirius stood as Mipsy popped away, and headed to the bedroom where his wife and child were. He was not waiting any longer to meet his first born son.

A few minutes later, he returned to the sitting room, a small bundle cradled gently in his arms. Smiling broadly, he looked out at the room. “Regulus Aldebaran Black,” Sirius pronounced. “My son.” Holding the tiny infant in his arms, Sirius was already in love. He would not fail this Regulus. Not ever.

 

Harry, it turned out, loved being a big brother. Every chance he had, he would hold his little brother, often telling him stories or singing to him softly. He told everyone he saw over the next few months how much he loved Regulus and that he couldn’t wait to have a second sibling. Sirius laughed at the second comment, but Viviane had an oddly pleased look on her face. Somehow, Sirius suspected there would be more children in his future if Viviane had anything to say about it.

The most amazing skill Harry possessed, however, was an ability to get Regulus to sleep, no matter what. Within two months of Regulus’ birth, Harry had declared himself in charge of his little brother’s bedtime and naps, as he did a far better job putting Regulus to sleep than either his mother or his father. Sirius was initially hesitant, as Harry was not even six yet, but the pure joy on the boy’s face convince him otherwise. Sirius could remember a time when he was this close to his own brother. He could only hope Harry and Regulus stayed close unlike him and his brother.

 

 

Filius Flitwick was practically bubbling with excitement as he ate his breakfast. Today was the special interest lecture on dueling. As a former dueling champion, Filius had been extremely disappointed when Dumbledore had ended the Hogwarts dueling clubs and competition. Aside from the occasional sixth or seventh year looking to compete internationally, nobody in the school was interested in the fine sport anymore. Even worse, many of the small British dueling circuits were in danger of closing due to the lack of participation. And Filius could not imagine dueling dying out. It had been (and still was) a favorite pastime of his.

“Looking forward to today’s lecture?” Minerva asked, turning to her colleague as she poured herself some tea.

“Most definitely,” Filius agreed. “If enough people are interested in restarting the dueling club after this, I plan to do so. With or without Dumbledore’s support.”

Minerva nodded. There was a time she would have argued against such an action. But the last few years had changed that. She had acted independently to bring back the dances, to organize the lectures, and restart some clubs. All of which had gone quite well. “I am sure the board would be on your side,” she assured him.

“It would be worth the extra work for sure.”

Minerva nodded. The new clubs and activities were adding more work to the teacher’s already busy lives, but she hoped to change that. At the end of the year, the board met with the senior staff to go over the budget. Perhaps there would be room in the budget to hire additional teachers. Or at least masters candidates to act as aides.

“Well, I’m off,” Filius announced, rising from his chair. “I promised some of my older claws I would supervise a review session. The OWLs and NEWTs are rapidly approaching.”

“They are indeed. I have always envied the studious nature of your students,” Minerva admitted.

Filius laughed, “And I the Gryffindor’s ability to leave a library. Have you ever had to threaten a student with detention to get them to leave the library?”

“I cannot say I have,” admitting Minerva smiling.

 

The dueling lecturers were two young men in their late twenties, dressed in robes with leather and dragon hide armor. Immediately, Minerva could tell the pair had the student’s attention. They radiated a confidence and deadliness not found in most wizards. Like the dragon tamers and curse breakers who had visited earlier in the year, their demeanor spoke of action and excitement. Attributes which were quite exciting to teenagers stuck in school.

“Good afternoon,” the taller of the men greeted. “My name is Jacob Hill. I am a professional duelist and compete on the international circuit. With me is Jeremy Wood, who placed third at this years international under thirty restricted competition. We are here today to tell you a little bit about dueling.”

“Formal dueling started hundreds of years ago as a way to settle disputes between two parties. Disputes ranged from arguments about property to perceived insults against an individual or family,” Jeremy began. “Interestingly enough, before the Statute of Secrecy, duels were often held between wizards and muggles.”

“How could a muggle duel a wizard?” a student asked. “It’s not like they have magic.”

“Using magic in a duel against a muggle was considered impolite and even cowardly,” Jeremy explained. “Instead, both parties would use a traditional weapon, such as a sword.”

“So wizards could fight with swords as well?” another student asked.

“The old families, certainly,” agreed Jeremy. “As well as those from wealthier families or, later, those who attended Hogwarts. One of the founders, Godric Gryffindor, was a renowned duelist, with both sword and wand. He even had a goblin made sword he used for important duels.”

“One of the earliest actions of the Wizengamont was to establish rules for proper magical dueling,” Jacob continued. “They created three different sets of rules: open, restricted, and gentlemen’s. Open rules meant the duelers were allowed to use any spell they desired. This type of dueling quickly became restricted to the most heinous offenses and confrontations with dark lords. Because any spell could be used, the duels were often deadly.

Restricted dueling allowed the competitors to choose what spells they wanted to ban from the duel. These duels usually took place in public places with containment wards and a referee. As spells were banned by the Wizengamont and later the Ministry, they were banned from all restricted duels. Restricted duels became the most common way of settling disputes, as the parties could ban different spells depending on the severity of the dispute. For example, a duel over a perceived insult against an uncle would generally ban most dark or potentially fatal spells while a duel caused by an attack against an heir would likely allow more dangerous spells.

Finally, there was the gentlemen’s duel. These duels became popular amongst the upper class as a way to show off skill and power without risking serious injury or death. These duels banned all spells that could case damage unable to be healed. Younger wizards also fought using gentlemen’s rules as no family wanted to endanger the lives of their children, no matter the perceived slight.”

“Is an open duel how Dumbledore defeated Grindewald?” a seventh year asked.

“It was,” Jeremy agreed. “While the ICW wizards made considerable progress against Grindewald’s army, hundreds of witches and wizards were dying on both sides. Agreeing that continuing their current actions would lead to great devastation for wizarding kind, Grindewald and Dumbledore agreed to an open duel. If Dumbledore defeated Grindewald, the war would be over.”

“So that is why the war ended so quickly after his defeat?” the seventh year added.

“Yes. Grindewald’s army was aware of this deal, and in accordance with the traditions of dueling, they surrendered after Grindewald’s defeat.”

“So why didn’t someone, like Dumbledore, challenge you-know-who to a duel?” a fifth year asked.

“I do not know,” admitted Jeremy. “Perhaps nobody felt they had a chance of defeating him. Perhaps somebody did and he declined.”

“But enough history. Let me tell you about how one goes about challenging, accepting, and actually beginning a gentlemen’s duel,” Jacob cut in.


	21. Dora's Request

**Jun 19 th, 1986**

Nymphadora Tonks was quite taken with the sport of dueling. After the seminar in April, she had read as much as she could about the sport, inhaling biographies of famous duelists, newspaper articles describing recent competitions, and even manuals of rules and regulations she had asked Arcturus for. By the time she returned home, she was desperate to attend an actual duel. So when the entire family was gathered at the manor, she pounced on her best opportunity.

“Grandfather, can I please attend a duel?” she asked, putting on her very best puppy dog eyes. “Mum says Asterion is too young to attend so you are my only hope!”

“Begging is not becoming,” Arcturus chided, looking at his great-granddaughter (well, first cousin four times removed, but great-granddaughter was certainly sounded better). “But if you have truly read all the material I sent you, I will look into it. It has been too long since I have attended, yet alone participated in a duel.”

“You used to duel?” Dora asked excitedly.

“In my youth. When I attending Hogwarts dueling was still a mandatory class. I was even quite good, winning a duel against Edward Yaxley for the honor of accompanying Melania to the winter ball.”

“You dueled over who got to take great-grandmother to a ball? Did she get any say?”

“She quite liked both of us, hence why we had to duel over the honor. Edward was a good friend of mine, and ended up marrying Ethel Fawley.”

“So it was a gentleman’s duel? Because it was between two friends and neither of you wanted to permanently harm each other?”

“Exactly. Gentelmen’s duels were the only duels allowed in Hogwarts outside of formal competition or class. I see you have learned at least a little.”

Dora nodded, her hair turning purple in happiness. “Can you teach me how to duel? Please?”

“Perhaps. First let me speak to your mother and father about seeing a duel in person. If you wish to learn after, I will talk to them.”

“Thank you!” Dora beamed.

 

After Andromeda received Dora’s grades for the year, she determined her daughter could accompany Arcturus (and Sirius and Harry) to a duel as a reward. Secretly, she too wished to attend, but Asterion was too young at only a year of age, and going on an adventure with one’s parents was always less exciting. Perhaps the net time.

The duel they were attending was being held in Paris, so the four Blacks portkeyed to the French Villa where Arcturus and Melania (nominally) lived. They would spend the night in the villa, attending the duel during the day and exploring magical Paris the following night before returning home the following morning. All in all, it was shaping up to be a marvelous adventure.

The morning started with fresh pastries, coffee, and hot chocolate on the porch overlooking the Mediterranean. The two adults enjoyed the view and beautiful weather, while Harry and Dora seemed to concentrate on trying as many different pastries as possible.

“There will be opportunities to eat later,” Sirius remarked as he watched his son move onto a third pastry.

“But they’re so tasty!” Harry exclaimed, his lips coated in chocolate.

“Besides, Cy had to try one of the chocolate filled ones,” Dora added knowingly.

“The hot chocolate was not enough?” Arcturus asked, watching the two cousins with amusement.

“You never have enough chocolate,” Harry responded wisely.

Once the pastries and drinks were consumed, and chocolate covered faces cleaned, Sirius and Arcturus apparated the younger two to the dueling stadium. It was an impressive sight- a large palace dating from the early seventeenth century. Walking up the stairs to the main entryway, they passed by beautiful marble statutes of wizards and witches, dressed in great splendor. Inside, the the hallways was covered in magnificent frescos, depicting the magical world. Passing through security, Dora was silent. She had yet to even see the dueling room and already this was amazing. Did Britain even have anything like this?

The duel itself was to be held in the ballroom. In the center of the ballroom was a large dueling platform, warding spells shimmering around the edges. Rows of comfortable chairs were arraigned around the platform, small side tables next to those in the front rows. The walls, too, were intricately decorated with golden inlay on the marble walls and swords hung around the room.

“The swords around the room cover the styles used by duelists for hundreds of years,” Arcturus explained, leading the group to four front row seats, directly in the middle of the platform. “Today we will see wanded duels only, but a true duelist is an expert with both the sword and the wand.”

“Can you use a sword?” Harry asked, looking up at his grandfather. Swords were cool and Harry hoped his grandfather could.

“Only a little,” admitted Arcturus. “While my dueling class at school did cover swords, it was only for a semester. They had mostly fallen out of fashion when the muggles stopped using them.”

“You were at school during the first muggle world war, right?” Sirius asked.

“I was there from 1912 until 1919. I believe the muggles were at war for a good part of that time, but I admit I do not remember what the war was called.”

“The first world war was 1914-1918,” Sirius explained as they took their seats. “It changed the way muggles fought wars, ending the way of chivalry and duels. But the wizarding world followed the old codes of combat until Riddle, at least in Britain,” Sirius explained to Dora. "I believe sword duels fell out of fashion when muggles stopped dueling, as two wizards could always use wands."

“The two duelists who visited Hogwarts sort of mentioned that. They said Grindewald was defeated in a traditional duel, but Riddle didn’t follow those sorts of rules.”

Sirius nodded, “Riddle tended to target innocents and families. Prior to him, even dark lords tended to only fight those who directly opposed them. Everyone agreed it was not right to kill children.”

“Why did Riddle kill innocents?” Dora asked, truly interested. She could remember how scared everyone had been before Riddle's defeat and this was far more interesting than Binns ever was.

“I do not know for certain. But perhaps because he was just truly evil. Or perhaps it was due to his childhood. Riddle grew up in the muggle world during one of their wars. The same war Grindewald took advantage in. During that war, the muggles attacking Britain killed thousands of children and other innocent people,” Sirius replied.

“An interesting point,” agreed Arcturus. “War is something wizards have always viewed differently than muggles. Every wizard, from the age of eleven, carries a deadly weapon. Since the invention of wands, it has been easy to kill. Therefore we must have strict rules and morals guiding our disputes.”

“In comparison, muggles develop deadlier and deadlier weapons with each passing year. But they have yet to come up with the rules and morals to prevent such violence. That was what made Riddle so terrible. It was not that he was more powerful than any other dark lord, it was that he ignored the rules and morals of combat that have existed for centuries to keep our innocents safe,” Sirius added.

“How do you know so much?” Dora asked amazed.

“Since Sirius was released, we have made it our mission to learn as much about Riddle, how he came to power, and how he caused so much devastation so that we can stop it from happening again,” Arcturus explained.

“Is it going to start soon?” Harry asked, impatiently. Unlike Dora, who was thirteen, the nearly six year old couldn’t quite follow the discussion and was growing bored.

“Very soon,” Sirius assured his son. “I believe I see the first set of duelist entering now.”

Sure enough, two wizards, dressed in dragon hide trousers, jackets, and boots walked onto the platform. An elderly wizard, dressed in a crimson robe introduced the pair in French to the crowd, who immediately cheered. Arcturus and Sirius, who both spoke French fluently, translated for the children as the referee went on to describe the rules for the duel. It was to be a level three restricted duel, meaning no dark magic of any kind. The duelists were good- fast of their feet and quick with their casting- but not the best. As the day progressed, the duelists would improve, moving to level two (no deadly or seriously maiming dark magic) to level one (no unforgivables) restricted duels.

 

By the end of the day, both Dora and Harry were practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. Dora had changed her mind. Dueling wasn’t just cool, it was the coolest thing ever. Better than quidditch! As the four made their way through the sites of magical Paris, Dora convinced her great-grandfather to push her parents for dueling lessons. After all, he had started lessons at Hogwarts during his third year. She should do the same.

At the same time, Arcturus and Sirius both came to the internal decision that perhaps dueling should make a comeback in magical Britain. They would bring the matter up to their friends, and see what they thought.

 

The following week, Sirius was enjoying his weekly poker game when he brought up dueling. “Arcturus and I brought Nymphadora and Procyon to France to watch a professional dueling competition,” he started. “Both absolutely loved it. Nymphadora convinced Arcturus to set her up for dueling lessons.”

“Dueling?” Lucius asked. “When was the last time dueling was offered in Hogwarts?”

“Pre-war, I believe,” Lord Abbott replied. “I am a few years older than you, so I remember it still existed when I started Hogwarts. By the time I graduated, it had been discontinued.”

“Did you learn to duel?” Avery asked.

“The basics, but it was a long time ago. Did any of you?”

“Arcturus started to teach my brother and I when we were little, but by the time I started Hogwarts those lessons were over.”

“I learned the basics,” agreed Bustrode, “but never really had much practice in a formal duel.”

“I competed for a few years after graduating,” Shafiq added, “but only within Britain. Once the war started, I stopped. Though I am, like Abbot, older than the rest of you.”

“It could be fun to start again. A gentlemen’s duel was always a good way to settle disputes,” Abbott added.

“Not to mention a way of proving magical superiority,” Fawley agreed.

The wizards nodded sharply. Having more money and political power was all well and good, but proving magical superiority was even better. Over the next few days, old dueling rooms would be updated and dueling outfits fitted. None of them wanted to be the weakest duelist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can totally see Sirius bringing up the dueling he saw and all of the purebloods being like "I need to practice now!" because none of them want to be the worst. Basically it is like a mgaical dick measuring contest :)


	22. Summer '86

**July 3 rd, 1986**

Andromeda’s law regarding adoption of muggleborn and half-blood orphans had finally been passed in June. And despite protest, largely from Dumbledore and his cronies, blood adoption of said orphans had also been legalized. Additionally, a muggleborn wizard had been hired by the ministry to coordinate with muggle social services. Sirius had secured the hiring of a muggleborn despite the still rampant blood supremacy in ministry with the simple question, “do you want to have to deal with the muggles?” It turned out even the staunchest pureblood supremacists would rather hire a muggleborn than deal with muggles themselves.

The first real test of the law did not occur for nearly three weeks after it was passed. Late on the night of the third, an alarm went off in the Office of Underage and Accidental Magic. Following procedures, a small magic reversal squad and an obliviator were sent to the scene. When the group of wizards arrived, they found the area swarming with muggle law enforcement and medics.

“What happened here?” one of the wizards asked after transforming his robes into a black suit.

“Break in gone wrong,” answered a cop, nodding as the wizard flashed him a conjured badge. “Two men entered the house only to be caught by the father. They panicked, shooting him and the wife. Both died.”

“Anyone else in the house?” Accidental magic was practically unheard of in adults.

“Their three-year-old daughter. Police found her hiding under her bed. Weird thing is the perps entered her room, but didn’t seem to notice her.”

“Thank you,” the wizard nodded. The young girl was likely who set off the alarms. Walking back to his peers, he said, “I don’t see anything for us to do here. Sounds like an accidental form of a notice me not charm. Richards, head back to the ministry and send someone from the Wizarding Orphans Office.”

“The WOO?”

“Three-year-old muggleborn girl lived here. Both her parents were killed.”

“Right, the new law,” Richards nodded in understanding before popping away.

By morning, it had been determined that the young girl’s name was Samantha and there was no immediate family to take her in. So, in accordance with the new law, the WOO stepped in. The case soon made the front page of the prophet, with witches and wizards all around the country wondering who would take the girl in. Within two weeks, a promising home had been found.

**_New Home Found for Orphaned Girl_ **

_Nearly two weeks ago, young Samantha, a muggleborn wizard, was orphaned when her mother and father were killed in a home robbery in muggle Manchester. While previously the matter would have been handled by the muggle authorities, the new Muggleborn and Half-Blood Orphans law (see page 3 for more details) allowed the Wizarding Orphans Office to take control of the situation. For the next two weeks, Samantha stayed with the Andromeda Tonks nee Black and her family. Mrs. Tonks, the original writer of the law stated, “So many young witches and wizards were orphaned during the war, many of them half-bloods and muggleborns. The muggle system is not designed to handle magical children, leading to increased numbers of obliviation, not mention the suffering experienced by the children themselves. Since I had many friends who would love another child, I figured allowing these orphans to be adopted would be an optimal solution.” When asked if the law had been inspired by the case of Harry Potter (see page 4 for more details), Mrs. Tonks appeared to have tears in her eyes. “While I never had the chance to meet the Potters personally, I am ever thankful for their sacrifice. Maybe this law would have prevented what happened to young Harry Potter, maybe not. I can only hope it will help many in the future.”_

_Today, we at the Prophet are happy to announce, Samantha has a new home and family. The Jones family, whose daughter Megan Jones is six years old, are happy to announce the new addition to their family. “We love our daughter dearly,” Mrs. Jones stated, “But have always wanted another child. After talking it over with Megan, who is beyond excited to have a little sister, we have decided to adopt Samantha.” When asked if they will take advantage of the new law to blood-adopt Samantha into the family, Mr. Jones replied, “We have decided to wait until Samantha is old enough to understand the process. We want her to make the decision, as we can always do the ritual later, but it cannot be undone.” While Mr. Jones is a pureblood, Mrs. Jones is a half-blood, meaning Samantha would be considered a half-blood if adopted. (see page 5 for more details on blood adoption). We wish the Jones family great joy with their new daughter._

Sirius folded the paper and placed it down on the table. “It seems the press is supportive,” he noted, smiling at his cousin.

“Samantha is such a lovely little girl. I cannot imagine anyone who meets her not falling in love,” Andromeda admitted. “I myself was highly tempted to adopt her, but Ted said Dora and Asterion were more than enough on their own.”

“I can only imagine. I must admit I am a little scared about what will happen when Reggie starts walking.”

“At least neither of your children are metamorphs! Asterion has learned to change his hair purposefully. I blame Dora.”

“At least Ted’s family will know what is happening this time.”

Andromeda laughed heartily. When Dora was only about two, Ted’s parents had agreed to babysit her for the day. Andromeda and Ted were later than they expected, and the glamour Andromeda had casted on Dora’s hair had faded. Needless to say, while Ted’s parents were familiar with accidental magic, they were totally unprepared for a two-year-old to have complete control over her hair color. Luckily the couple had made it back home before the charm had worn off.

* * *

August brought the celebration of Procyon Black’s sixth birthday. While he was no longer the heir (that honor fell to Regulus), it was still a grand affair, fitting of a scion of the House of Black. Invitations had been sent out to all of Harry’s friends and acquaintances, as well as many politically important adults. In attendance were the Malfoys, Greengrasses, Notts, Parkinsons, Smiths, Longbottoms, and even Bones, as well as several other guests not bringing children Harry’s age.

The party was being held on the expansive grounds of the Black Manor, and as such, they had been properly groomed and decorated for the occasion. At one end of the garden, a large buffet was set up with everything from kid friendly pasta to imported oysters for the adults. At the other end, there was a variety of games set up for the children, including an appropriately sized quidditch pitch with brooms and balls. Over all, the party was very grand and over the top. Sirius had initially been against it, preferring to host a smaller party just for Harry and his friends as they had done the previous two years, but Arcturus had been adamant.

“The House of Black has retaken our position in society. You are now Lord Black, and have a lovely wife and heir. While you might not see the necessity of throwing such an extravagant party, it will help remind others who we are,” Arcturus had explained.

“Extravagant? The party is over the top. Cy is only six after all. Not to mention the Harvest Festival was only last week. Surely that demonstrated our position?”

“The Harvest Festival, while hosted by the Black family, is not about the Black Family. It is a time to celebrate magic, growth, and the earth. Procyon’s birthday party, in comparison, will remind people of the wealth of our family, the strength of our future, and our love of family.”

Sirius sighed. He might officially be Lord Black, but his grandfather still ran the show. “Fine, the party will happen. I still think it is ridiculous.”

“Perhaps. But I imagine Procyon will have a grand time.”

Procyon did indeed have a grand time, running around the garden playing with his friends, flying, and eating an exceedingly generous slice of the massive cake Lolly and Mipsy had prepared. He even survived the “politicking” with all the important guests by simply being adorable as Sirius introduced him. It helped that he met most of the Lords with Regulus giggling happily in his arms. Despite Sirius’ concerns, the party was a success, even leading to more than one betrothal proposal for Procyon. Sirius politely (but very quickly) declined.


	23. Author's Note

Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this story over the years. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, I have been unable to continue the story- writer's block has consumed me. I am therefore putting the story up for adoption. If you are interested in either finishing or rewriting the story, please comment or message me.

 

**Update: MabonEleven is graciously continuing the story and now is listed as a co-author. If anyone else wants to write something based off my work (the first 22 chapters) I would love to read it as well. I only ask that you let me know and credit me accordingly.**

Thanks again for all of your support,

Alex


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